I'll Be Seeing You
by LightHeartLoreli
Summary: The scene is 1940s Chicago. Rosalie Hale's father is dead and she suspects foul play. Distraught, she contacts private detective Edward Cullen. Can he solve the case and fill the hole in her heart? Murder? Mystery? Sexy good times? Yup, we've got 'em!
1. Satin Doll

**Disclaimer: We're just having fun with the characters, we don't own them. But they certainly own us.**

A/N – This story was written by LoreliD and LightStarDusting for TheHeartOfLifeIsGood's birthday. She loves Roseward and we were only to happy to try and take them on. Hope you enjoy, dollface.

Chapter 1 – Satin Doll

...And finally, a star of Chicago, Illinois is shining a bit dimmer today. All of Chi-town is buzzing at the news that Cuthbert Hale, famed owner of the La Bella Cosmetics company which was founded here in Chicago was found dead in his home by his daughter, the glamorous Rosalie Hale. Mr. Hale is believed to have had a heart attack early Friday morning. The deceased was husband to the late Lucille Hale, who passed away due to complications during childbirth in 1920 following the birth of their younger child, Jasper. Mr. Hale is survived by daughter, Rosalie and son, Jasper. This morning, Mr. Hale will be laid to rest next to his wife. Rosalie is slated to take control of La Bella Cosmetics and the entire Hale estate. She has some big shoes to fill but Chicago has every confidence in this little lady. This is truly a sad day in our great city.

This is Randall Roberts. I leave you now with Duke Ellington and John Coltrane's "In a Sentimental Mood."

**EPOV**

I was tempted to turn off my Victrola radio as I stood in my studio apartment in my undershirt and slacks, slowly pouring myself another bourbon. I didn't really give a crap about some dead blueblood and his family's problems. Unfortunately, it was my job to know what was happening with the Chicago social set; sometimes they came to me to solve their rich blueblood problems, and hell, they paid _damn_ _well_. Automatically, I filed the names away in the drawer in my mind reserved for useless bullshit I'd probably never need. I sat down at my desk, unfolded my copy of the Chicago Tribune and eagerly spread it out in front of me. I quickly found the sports pages and began studying the baseball section intently as I tossed back a tumbler of Wild Turkey with a practiced flick of my wrist. The ring of the telephone prevented me from reaching my goal; finding the score of the White Sox game would have to wait.

I reached over lazily and picked up the receiver. "Cullen," I said just as lazily, once the cold black plastic met my ear.

"Is this Mr. Edward Cullen?" a husky feminine voice asked.

"Yeah, that's right," I replied as my brows drew together in suspicion.

"Are you taking new cases, Mr. Cullen?" she inquired.

I pursed my lips in thought and relaxed back into my chair. "Could be," I allowed nonchalantly as I leaned back and propped my feet up on the desk. "Depends on the case. As a general rule, I don't decide to take a case until I've met with the client," I answered, grateful again I had made that personal policy._ Anything could be a set up, you can't trust anybody._

I heard her sigh. "Perhaps if you knew with whom you were speaking, you might reconsider," she returned.

_Well la-di-dah!_ "Look doll, I don't care if you're Eleanor goddamn Roosevelt, no dice. We meet first. Why not come to my office? That's usually how this works," I offered. My eyes darted around the room and noted the boxer shorts hanging up to dry only ten feet away from my desk.

"No thank you," she returned and I sighed with relief that I wouldn't have to hurry and make the place presentable. "Can we meet somewhere in public?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Sure. Any place in particular?"

"Lou Mitchell's, in an hour."

"I'll be there, doll," I said; I knew the place. "And, just for the sake of propriety, with whom am I meeting?" I asked with a sarcastic smirk.

"Rosalie Hale," she answered flatly and then hung up.

_Oh._

I put the receiver down and snatched up my pack of Lucky Strikes, pulling one gingerly from the pack and bringing it slowly to my lips. From the pocket of my slacks, I took out my silver Zippo lighter and flicked it open with a snap of my fingers. I took a long, luxurious draw as I lit the cigarette and pulled open that creaky drawer in my head reserved for bullshit that I apparently needed after all.

Rosalie Hale. Of course I'd heard of her, long before today's news. You can't grow up in this town and not know about the Hales. The radio had said she stood to inherit the entire estate and her father's cosmetics company. Why would she be calling me? _For Christ's sake, Cullen, why do they always call?_ I chuckled blackly to myself. _Because they're usually guilty._

I stood and went in search of a shirt to put on. As I was putting my cuff links in, I remembered another snippet of useless bullshit. This dame was supposed to be beautiful, the toast of the town at one time. I cringed. Beautiful broads were trouble.

Nothing but trouble. The kind of trouble and the kind of dame that got a fella nothin' but a black eye and broken heart. To be strictly avoided at all costs.

After I made sure my Colt .32 revolver was loaded and secure in my holster, I deftly knotted my blue tie around my neck and shrugged into my navy blue suit jacket. Carelessly, I tossed my dark grey fedora hat on my head and walked out the door for my rendezvous with Chicago's sweetheart.

Thirty-five minutes later, I got out of the cab on West Jackson Boulevard and squinted up at the red neon sign of Lou Mitchell's Restaurant that buzzed above me with an electric hum. Nothing had changed since the last time I was here. A decade ago, I lived on this side of the city and Lou's was where I got my morning joe. I didn't recognize any of the faces in the joint, but I saw the same cheap red vinyl chairs, the tabletops that were scuffed and carved from years of servitude and the same bell over the door announcing my entrance.

Not seeing anyone that looked like a blond heiress Betty Grable type either, I got a table in the back and ordered a coffee and a slice of apple pie from the tiny black haired woman that came to wait on me. I could hear the cook's radio playing the Andrews Sister's "In the Mood," mingled with the satisfying sizzle of bacon frying.

"Ma'am," I called to the waitress just as she had turned to leave, "forget the pie, steak and eggs over easy instead, with a side of bacon." It just smelled too damn good. She nodded and headed toward the kitchen.

I took off my hat and ran my hand through my hair before lighting a smoke. _Wonder what makes her think there's more going on? The radio said heart attack, _I mused, my thoughts falling back to the Hale case. I took a long deliberate pull on my smoke and exhaled. The waitress brought me my coffee.

"Cream?" she asked. I shook my head no and she left me to myself. I pulled out my little silver flask and quickly topped off my cup. As I brought the cup to my lips, my eyes went to the door of the diner where a customer was walking in, making the little bell that hung over the door ring insistently.

I nearly choked on my coffee as my eyes drank in the sight of what I could only assume was dollface herself. I mean I _am_ a man; I couldn't have helped it if I'd wanted to. Her presence _demanded_ a reaction. Her golden wavy hair framed her porcelain face like a gilt frame around a priceless painting. Her eyes were brilliant sapphires as they searched the faces of the patrons of the diner, searching for me, I assumed. Rosy cheeks perfectly complimented by luscious red lips that you just want to have _on_ you... A_nywhere_.

I stood up slowly, honestly in awe of her, and her eyes flew to me. I smiled at her to show her I was who she was looking for. Her chin tilted up ever so slightly as she started towards me. _Saunter_ was the only way to describe it; there was no way what she was doing could be called _walking_. Every man in the room felt the searing burn of her smoldering sensuality.

The creamy white fabric of her dress trimmed with red roses swayed seductively around her calves as she came toward me. I caught a glimpse of a set of long, muscular gams that would put a derby winning thoroughbred to shame. Her feet were encased in a tiny pair of red high heels and her fingernails were painted fuck-me-red to match. I was pretty sure La Bella didn't have a color called that, but they _needed_ to, and call it Rosalie.

"Edward Cullen?" She purred like a kitten and put out her hand for me to shake.

"Rosalie Hale," I said and took her hand, turning it over and kissing the top of it. "It's my pleasure," I murmured and smiled wryly at her.

Absolutely nothing but a fistful of trouble right smack in the kisser.

**RPOV**

Edward Cullen looked like he was nothing but trouble with a capital _T._

Even from a distance he looked cold, hard, and dangerous. _And sexy too. Can't forget that, Rosalie. _Those types usually were. Emmett had told me about him, saying that he was the best in the business. Hard to work with, but the best Chicago has to offer in the way of private detectives. I would deal with "difficult to work with" to have the best. And who was I to call someone else difficult anyway? Emmett had heard about Edward Cullen through a few friends and had met him at a pool hall a few months back. I wasn't sure at first that I needed to hire a private detective; after all, I spoke to the police officers and they said it was open and shut. My father had passed away from a heart attack, end of story. Only, I was pretty sure that it _wasn't_ the end of the story. The more I thought about it over the weekend, the more I realized that I could not rest until I knew, for certain, that there was nothing out of the ordinary with my father's death. One name was on a constant loop, repeating over and over in my head: Edward Cullen.

"That's him, isn't it, Emmett?" I questioned softly through the glass divider of the car as I watched him walk into the diner, hat on and head low, keeping his face shielded from the wind. I was separated by glass all around me. Separated from where Emmett sat in the front seat of the Cadillac Fleetwood by glass. Separated by the glass of the car window and the glass pane of the diner from Mr. Edward Cullen. I lived in a glass box with everyone looking in at me, watching my every move, and waiting to see what I would do next. It allowed me to take in others as well, though, and that's what I was doing. I sat watching him, sleuthing the detective. The thought was somewhat amusing to my slightly hysterical mind.

"That's him, Rosalie," he answered, resting his arm on the back of his seat and slightly turning to look at me. A few short years ago he would have referred to me as Miss Hale or even Miss Rosalie. Things changed a lot in a few years, though. We had a _thing_ together, Emmett and me. He took me out, we went dancing, and I learned more from Emmett about the city and the world than I had from nearly anyone else. Daddy knew and approved of our relationship. Daddy had always told me that class does not divide us, attitude does. I think that's one of the things that made Daddy such a good businessman; he never looked down his nose at people. I tried hard to do the same and follow in his footsteps. Emmett and I mutually decided that our relationship worked better as just friends and we remained as such. He stayed on staff after we broke it off and it didn't prove to be uncomfortable. Emmett was a good egg and still one of my very closest confidants. I didn't have many so it made me hold tight to the ones I had.

"Are you sure you don't want me to join your meeting?" Emmett offered to me as I continued to watch the diner out the window. I was no longer able to see Mr. Cullen. Instead I watched the pigeons looking for crumbs and the people bustling by, eager to get wherever they were going. I was stalling and I knew it. Emmett's offer to escort me was a tempting one. It would have been so much easier to have Emmett there during my meeting with Mr. Cullen. Security and a friend rolled into one. But I knew that this was something I needed to do alone. I needed to start relying on myself now that Daddy was no longer here to watch over me and protect me. I shook my head in answer to Emmett's question, my hair moving gently around my shoulders with the motion.

Leaning back on the mohair tan seat, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The car still smelled of cigars and my father's cologne and it surrounded me, enveloped me. I wondered how long it would stay that way before the smell would completely disappear. _Oh Daddy. _A few small tears made their way to the corners of my eyes and I gently dabbed them dry. My embroidered handkerchief never seemed to leave my hand, although I knew I'd have to toughen up to do what needed to be done. I reached in my purse for the silver compact engraved with the letters LRH. It was one of the things I've held on to that was my mother's. I flipped the compact open to make sure everything was still in place. Make-up and hair both looked perfect, as was expected from the _now owner _of La Bella Cosmetics. Even in my darkest hours, when my world was filled with sadness like I'd never experienced, my appearance had to remain perfect. It's what everyone expected of me. I took the powder puff and lightly dabbed on a quick coat of powder to freshen my face. The cold metal warmed quickly, pressed into my hand, and I traced the three letters etched into the silver. I had few memories of Momma, I was so young when she passed. But I remembered her using this compact and it gave me a connection to her that I was otherwise so often lacking.

Sighing and pulling myself together, I moved to pull on my mink stole and get out of the car. Emmett watched me through the rear view mirror and exited the front seat. He tipped his hat and swung open my door for me, offering his hand as I stepped out of the car. He looked a bit concerned as his eyes met mine.

"Rosalie, be careful. Word on the street is he's a bit of a hothead," he warned as he shut the door behind me.

"So am I, if you remember correctly," I smiled a watery smile up at him. My Patriotic Red lips grazed the side of his ear. I whispered a breathy _thank you._ He smiled back and said, "Knock him dead, kid."

The local greasy spoon was probably the last place Mr. Cullen would have thought I'd suggest. Daddy and I came here all of the time. The people were warm and friendly in a city that could, at times, be anything but. My hands moved to my thighs and smoothed my custom tailored dress down over my legs, pressing out the folds that had come from sitting in the car. Daddy had it made especially for me, with hand painted roses along the skirt. Some might think it was ostentatious to wear something so flashy following his death. I didn't care what they thought. I knew he would smile if he was here with me. I drew a sense of comfort from wearing the dress that my father had had made especially for me, his Rose. I had worn the standard black frock earlier to the funeral and it felt stifling. This was _me._

Putting on a neutral face, I walked with purpose across the street and to the diner. Pigeons scattered from the sidewalk in front of the restaurant as my heels clicked on the pavement near them. The bell chimed over my head as the glass door opened and I immediately started searching, giving the illusion that I was searching the familiar setting for an unfamiliar face. I had seen him from a distance but didn't get the opportunity to really get a good look at his face. I saw him stand up from his spot in the corner booth and I hung my stole on the rack near the front door before making my way to the table. His eyes travel up and down my body and I have to try hard to hold my smirk at bay. That's not to say that my eyes don't take in his stature: slim, lean, and looked like he could use a few good home-cooked meals. His hair was in need of a good cut and his face of a shave. He had a five o'clock shadow and it was nowhere near five o'clock. His eyes gleamed as they made one more pass along my body and he gave me his best Valentino smile. _I know I'm in mourning, but I can't ignore the tingle I'm feeling. It's been too long..._

After we introduced ourselves and he pulled the old "kiss the hand instead of shake it" trick, I moved to sit down on my side of the booth. Before I was able to sit, Alice came over and pulled me into a tight hug, standing on her toes and whispering her condolences up into my ear. Mr. Cullen looked on, a mixture of shock and confusion evident on his face. She asked if I would like my usual order and after nodding my confirmation, she patted my hand and walked to the back of the counter to talk to Lou.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding while I slid into the booth across from Mr. Cullen. _Showtime, Rosalie._

"Mr. Cullen, I do appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me. I hope that this isn't too much of an inconvenience for you."

"It's Edward, dollface. None of the 'Mr. Cullen' bullshit. Why don't you give me the skinny as to _why_ we are meeting." His voice was low and raspy, and he looked at me skeptically as he took a long, slow drag from his cigarette. I started to speak but paused as I saw Alice coming back to the table with my fruit salad, omelet, and tea. Balanced on her other arm she has what I can only assume was his food, if it could be called that. For such a small woman, she had an amazing amount of strength. After depositing the plates in front of us, she grabbed the coffee pot off the burner to top off his mug. Edward dug into his food immediately, grunting out a quick thanks to Alice. I looked up and smiled my thanks at her and she gave me a look. The look that basically said she was ready to take this guy on, if he so much as laid a finger on me. The thought was absurd, of course, but comforting.

I turned back to Edward, ready to tell him the purpose of our meeting when I saw him tipping a flask toward his coffee. _A boozer? _I hoped that it wouldn't affect his ability to get the job done, if he acquiesced and took the job. He opened his mouth while chewing his food and said, "From what I've heard, your father's death was pretty standard fare."

My blood boiled. I leaned forward, quite intent on showing him exactly how serious I was about this. "My father's death was not, as you say, _standard fare. _I do not, for a moment, believe that he had a heart attack as the police and coroner suggest. Daddy was healthy! Sure, he had his vices, but don't we all?" My eyes flickered down to his food and drink. I took a sip of my tea and ate a bit of omelet before I continued. "He was not a sick man. He took great pride in being active and taking care of his body. It went along with the whole image as being the Cosmetics King of Chicago, but he truly believed in the way of life too. Every morning he and Emmett ran together." His brows rose infinitesimally at the mention of Emmett's name. I cut up some more of my food while I briefly decided how much to reveal.

"Our driver and friend," I explained, my face flushed a bit. Rushing ahead, I continued, "And Daddy often played tennis on the weekends with his friends from the country club."

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Of course, the _country club._" I could not be certain, as his mouth was stuffed with food once again. I took a dainty bite of my fruit and chewed before opening my mouth to talk again. _Maybe he'd learn by example?_

"Tell me about your father's friends, his habits. Did he enjoy socializing? Who were his closest friends?" He took a big gulp of his spiked coffee and winced a bit.

"He does. He... did. He was friendly with most of the members of the club, the people we'd see at parties. He had a lot of business acquaintances and social acquaintances. My brother, Jasper, always poked fun at how many people he knew. It seemed like every time we'd go out somewhere, he knew every single person we passed." I ate some more of my food. I hadn't realized how hungry I was or how I had ignored eating the entire day. There had been too much going on. "As for close friends, he only had a few that I think he'd consider 'tried and true.' Walter Montgomery. James Smithe. Reginald Williams." The names were all Chicago royalty, heavy-hitters in the city. If Edward was surprised, he didn't show it.

Ella's version of "Satin Doll" floated through the air from Lou's radio. I leaned forward again, pushing my plate out of the way so that I could get as close to him as I could without joining him on his side of the booth. I reached my hand across and gently picked up his hand, running my fingernail lightly across the top. He watched my finger making soft circles on his hand and it almost looked like he mouthed the words "fuck me." Certainly, even _he_ wouldn't say something so crass in front of a lady. I realized then and there that it was time to turn on the charm.

"Edward," I murmured his name and I saw him go slack-jawed. "Something does not add up with my father's death. It does not make any sense and I truly believe that there is something more to this. That's where you come in, should you decide that my case is worthy of your time. And I sincerely hope you decide to take me on," I said, breathlessly, as I lowered my eyes and pursed my lips, "because I am more than willing to take _you_ on. Whatever the price, I can tell that you are worth it." He had actually given me no indication whatsoever of either the price or his worth during our meeting. But, I figured that a little ego stroking never hurt anyone. I wanted him - no I _needed _him - to take this case; Daddy deserved the best, and Emmett said he was the best. "Would you consider coming to my home? Looking around? Maybe there are some clues floating right in front of my face that I am not noticing?" I could tell from his expression that I nearly had him. I quickly got up and moved my body around from my side of the booth to his, sidling up right beside him. I circled my nails on his forearm. _"Please, Edward?"  
_  
He grabbed my hand with his, effectively stopping me in my tracks. He leaned into my ear and to an outsider, I'm sure we appeared quite cozy. The growl in my ear told me otherwise. "I am not easily played, dame. And you might want to take note of that. I will help you out and take on the case. But knock it off with the act. I ain't buying what you're selling, you see?"

_Right-o, Eddie-boy. Whatever you say. _I nodded my head and pulled out my purse, leaving bills on the table covering our tab and a hefty tip for my sweet friend, Alice.

"Whaddya say we blow this popsicle stand and head to your estate?" he asked, as we both rose from the booth. He grabbed his hat and tipped it forward, covering the mess of hair. I almost missed seeing it and had the overwhelming urge to run my fingers through it.

"Walk this way."

From the way he'd watched me walk into the room, I had to believe he'd be watching me walk out just as closely. At least now he had a reason.

* * *

Our beta love is KrisBCullen.


	2. Stormy Weather

Chapter 2 - Stormy Weather

**RPOV**

With a gentle sway of my hips, which pushed my skirt to and fro, I led Edward toward the front of the diner. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that, while he might have _said_ he was immune to my feminine charms, he wasn't completely able to ignore what was before him. His eyes were focused on my hips and I almost had the moxie to ask if he liked what he saw. _Almost. _I didn't want to press my luck; I knew when to turn if off just as well as I knew when to turn it on. Pausing briefly by the door, I removed my stole from the coat rack and started to put it on. Strong hands clamped down on my shoulders and I was briefly startled until I realized it was him. He was suddenly right behind me, moving closer to assist me with my stole.

"Aren't you nervous someone would walk off with your mink?" he questioned, his body pressed close against mine to allow a man in a seersucker suit and his child to pass us. I lifted my hair off my shoulders while he helped me put the stole on. I could swear his nose grazed my hair but the movement was so quick, it could have been my mind playing tricks on me. My mind wasn't exactly in a right state since I had found Daddy's body on Friday.

I shrugged. "I've learned to go with the assumption that people are inherently good, unless they prove to be otherwise." We walked out the glass door together and I waved goodbye to Alice and the other regulars at Lou's. Alice gave me one last parting look, telling me with her eyes that I had better be careful of the company I kept. _Duly noted, Alice, but he's one of the good guys. I think. _I turned my attention back to the man standing next to me. "If someone felt the need to steal it, they probably needed it more than I do. _Things_ can be replaced, Edward. People cannot."

His hat covered his eyes and I found it a bit disconcerting that I couldn't see his reaction to my statement. His eyes, the color of light jade, were quite expressive, and quite jaded. It was probably why he felt the need to hide them so often under the brim of his hat; he knew that they were his _tell._ With a perfectly polished fingernail, I pointed to the car sitting across the street. Emmett was lounging in the front seat, reading a paper and awaiting my return. We crossed the street and he quickly got out of the car to open the door to the cab.

"Miss Hale, Mister Cullen, I expect your meeting was a pleasant one?" Emmett asked. His eyes searched mine out to make sure that everything was, indeed, on the up and up. He was not surprised by Edward's presence, making me think that he had been watching the diner a bit more than reading the paper now discarded on the front seat. It also did not escape my notice that he referred to me as Miss Hale in front of Edward and I was grateful. Given his profession, Edward would be quick to pick up on little things like that and I didn't feel it was any of his business what happened in the past between Emmett and me.

"Yes, Emmett. It went well, thank you." I took his hand as I turned to sit in the car. Sliding over on the bench seat, Edward climbed into the car next to me. Edward looked a bit like a fish out of water, shifting in his seat and not sure exactly where to put his arms. I then realized that this might be his first ride in a car like this one. Not wanting to make the situation awkward, I didn't ask if it was his first limousine ride but went with the assumption that it was. Emmett returned to his spot in the front and I slid the window open so we could converse with him.

"Hey, pal. First ride in a limo? She's a beaut, isn't she?" _Leave it to Emmett to point out what I was trying to tactfully avoid. _ However, Edward looked a bit more at ease and he began to converse with Emmett as the car glided smoothly along the paved city street. The two men spoke through the window in the partition and I sat, half listening, mostly watching. Edward was slouched back on the seat, chatting amiably with Emmett. I saw him move to slide his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. I grabbed his hand and he looked at me with what I imagine would have been surprise if I could see his damn eyes. Slowly he pulled his hand from mine.

"Edward, would you mind removing your hat?" I felt a bit silly asking but I couldn't stop the words from flying out of my mouth. It was torturous not to know what was going on underneath the brim of that hat.

"Why?" he asked, running his fingertips along the brim, but not acquiescing to my somewhat crazy demand.

"It hides your eyes. Daddy always told me that you can tell someone's true intentions by their eyes. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."

He tilted his hat up with his finger and looked me in the eye, "What else did daddy tell you?"

I thought for a moment, desperate to come up with anything that would lighten the mood. "Not to eat yellow snow," I offered up with a wicked smile. _Actually, I think Jasper might have told me that one._

"I've never heard that one before," he grinned back at me, leaning into the seat and looking a bit more comfortable.

Taking my cue from him, I pushed my back into the seat and demurely crossed my legs while smoothing my skirt around them. "It's a good rule to follow."

He pushed a smoke up from his pack of Lucky Strikes once more and pulled it out with his lips. I sighed and moved to stop him a second time. "Now you're really going to think I'm a demanding shrew, but would you mind terribly not smoking in the car? It's just that I..."

He took the cigarette from his lips and stared me down, brow furrowed and creases formed on his forehead. "What's wrong, precious? I won't catch the mohair on fire."

I decide to give it to him straight. "Listen, this might not make sense to you but it smells like my _father_ in here. His cigars, his cologne. I just... hope it can stay that way. At least for a little while." I looked down at my hands, which played with the hem of my skirt. My finger traced one of the roses.

I felt him shift closer to me on the seat and his finger came under my chin, tilting my head up. Looking into my eyes and removing his hand slowly from my chin, he explained, "Just looking for those true intentions, Rosie." His eyes were soft and, in that moment, any trace of the jaded detective from the diner was gone. I normally hated the nickname 'Rosie' but even I couldn't say anything about his use of it.

"Cohibahs?" He asked, as he casually returned the smoke back into the pack and placed it back in his pocket.

My eyes widened slightly, a bit surprised, although I was quickly learning that nothing he did or said should surprise me. My eyes scanned the seats to look for a discarded wrapper, any indication that could have tipped Edward off to the cigar brand besides the smell. The car was immaculate, as usual, thanks to Emmett's diligence. "Yes, those are the ones. How did you know?"

He nodded knowingly. "They have a very distinct scent, it will linger for years." I smiled at the thought.

"And the cologne?" he asked, running his fingers along the side paneling of the door, glancing out the window as we made our way toward Lake Michigan. The estate was about five minutes uptown from where we were.

"It's Volturi. La Bella, of course. Wouldn't do us very much good if the CEO was wearing someone else's cologne, now would it?"

"I imagine not." His eyes shifted to the front seat where Emmett was trying very hard to look like he was not listening to every word of our conversation. "Emmett seems very..._ attentive._"

I leaned forward to shut the divider between where we sat from Emmett. Emmett gave me a look in the mirror, which I returned to him as I slid the divider closed. "Yes, like I said earlier, he's been a good friend to our family through the years." Edward smirked at me, like he knew there was more to the story than what I was telling him. _How_ would he know that? I didn't ask.

"Anything else you'd like to share about Emmett?" he queried.

"No. There is not." I was being short but I wanted the message to come through loud and clear. "He's one of the few people in our lives that has been nothing but loyal. So if you are insinuating that he had something to do with Daddy's death, don't bother. You're barking up the wrong tree." I finished my rant and glared at him. Realizing we were just a block away from the house, I sat up and started to collect my things, busying myself. "Do you have any more questions before we get to the estate?"

"How did it end?"

"How did _what_ end?"

"Your relationship with Emmett." He stated it as though he knew it was a fact.

I was flustered and I'm sure my skin flushed, showing it to the infuriating man sitting next to me. I couldn't get a read on him and it was frustrating me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to flirt with him or choke him. "A girl's got to keep some things to herself, Edward. My past relationships are none of your concern. That's not what I hired you for."

"Fair enough, doll. Just know that I never rule anyone out because they had a roll in the hay with my client."

_Choke him. Definitely choke him._ "I'll remember that." I watched as Emmett got out of the car and opened the black wrought iron fence that enclosed the estate. I was grateful for the distraction so we could leave that uncomfortable topic behind us. He returned to the car and once again we were moving, rolling slowly into the driveway. Emmett opened the door for us and I exchanged a quick glance with him, silently communicating that we would talk later.

The Georgian style estate loomed over us and Edward took in his surroundings, whistling low through his teeth. Still seething from our previous conversation, I started up the pathway headed toward the door, figuring that he would have enough sense to follow behind. The red door stood out starkly from the white house with black shutters and I entered the house, leaving it open behind me so he could enter as well. The post sat on the table and I rifled through it, looking for anything of interest. He stood in the doorway, the wood framing his body like a picture, and looked around the foyer. "What?" I snapped, setting the mail on the low table in the front of the mirror. Catching sight of myself, I fluffed my hair and looked over at him once more. "Do you need a formal written invitation? Come in already." Emily, our maid, hung my stole and took Edward's jacket from him to put away in the closet as well.

It didn't appear that Edward was too phased by the cold shoulder treatment. Instead, he was taking everything in. The staff, the decor, the hardwood floors - his eyes moved quickly and didn't seem to miss a thing. It looked like he was finally getting down to business.

"Nice pile of bricks. What's its history? Who lives here with you? Who's on staff besides Emmett? I need you to tell me anything and everything that might be pertinent to this case." He pulled a smoke out from his pack and lit it with a quick flash of his lighter.

"Follow me; I'll show you the study. That might be a good place to start." Heels clicking on the wood floor, I made my way up the stairs to the study that held my father's desk and documents. "My father had the house built in 1930, a few years after La Bella went from being a popular regional brand to a national success. Our sales went through the roof in 1925 and soon he knew that expansion was imminent. When he was first starting off, we had a small home near the warehouse where La Bella was based. Once the company started doing well, he bought the office building downtown and had the estate built. It gave Jasper and I a good environment to grow up in. Especially since our mother had passed and he was so busy with work; the staff was here to look after us." I opened the door to the cherry wood paneled room and gestured for him to walk inside. "Currently, my brother, Jasper, and I are the only Hales living here. But we also have a cook, Sam, and Emily who is the maid. Jacob is the butler although he's away this week, visiting family out of state, and Riley is the groundskeeper. And you are already quite aware of Emmett."

Setting my purse down on the desk, I moved to the drink cart that sat below the window. "Can I interest you in a drink? Brandy?"

"Yeah, brandy's good," he nodded while nosing around the desk, picking up an invitation to the Children's Hospital Gala, and sitting down in the plush chair.

Something about this felt very familiar. Then I realized that it was nearly the exact same conversation my father and I had had in this room, on Thursday evening while he looked at the very same invitation to the Children's Hospital Gala.

The epiphany came crashing down on top of me all at once. It was bizarre how the littlest thing, the smallest piece of the puzzle, can finally bring the whole picture together. It wasn't finding him in his pajamas on Friday morning that did it. Not the slew of visitors over the weekend. Nor was it laying him to rest next to my mother.

It was Edward Cullen, sitting in my father's chair, holding the invitation to the Gala and my offering him a drink that did it.

_My father was dead. Dead. _

He was gone and not coming back. I don't think my mind fully grasped the concept until just that point in time. The snifter I was holding crashed to the ground and a sob escaped my mouth before I could press the back of my hand to it. Looking up toward the ceiling, I tried in vain to stop the barrage of tears that were already tumbling down my cheeks.

Frantically, my mind tried to process what was happening and what to do about the situation. Warring emotions pulled me in opposite directions. Part of me wanted to sink to the floor and finally let out the harsh ugly cry that had been building up inside of me for four days. Another part of my brain was screaming at me to find Jasper. He was most likely somewhere in the house or on the grounds. Jasper had always been very good at helping me manage my emotions. I considered running from the study to my bedroom, just to remove myself from the situation. From the study. From one of the last memories of my father alive.

The very last thing I wanted to do was to look at the man sitting at my father's desk.

**EPOV **

I looked up from where I was seated at Mr. Hale's desk when I heard the sound of crystal shattering, and realized dollface was on the verge of an all out crying jag.

Luckily for me, my line of work afforded me a lot of experience with bawling hysterical women.

I went to her, enveloping her in my arms. Experience had taught me that all she needed was some reassurance that we would find out the truth, whatever it might be. I'd seen it a hundred times. I'm sure she was no different. I felt her arms wrap around my waist as her sobs shuddered throughout her whole body. I patted her back in a comforting, brotherly fashion.

"Don't worry, Rosalie," I said, using the soft, sincere tone I reserved for times like this. "I'm here to help you, we'll figure it out."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go to pieces on you. I just haven't wanted to believe that he's gone," she said sadly, her voice trailing off at the end. "Between the funeral arrangements and company business to attend to, I haven't had time to grieve, or even just realize he's really gone," she sniffled. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and gave it to her. She took it gratefully and daintily dabbed the corners of her eyes while she stared at the floor, looking adorably embarrassed. I put a firm finger under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to look me in the eye.

"Don't worry, doll. I've taken you on. Just like you wanted, and I won't you let go," I assured and flashed a wry grin.

She flushed just a tiny bit, her cheeks coloring just enough to make her live up to her name. Her pupils dilated as her blue eyes widened. In the same instant, I realized how perfectly she fit against me, how her body molded itself to mine like a soft, warm blanket. She smelled like roses too, even though it was January for Christ's sake. I cleared my throat and tore my gaze away from her, releasing her from my embrace, and searched the room for a place to sit down with her.

I placed my hand gently on her shoulder, leading her to the small settee near the window and nodded for her to sit down. She blotted her eyes, wiping away the make-up crap she had cried off and blew her nose daintily. She crossed her ankles demurely and tucked them under the settee. Her back was rigid and never came close to touching the back of the seat.

_She's got class; a lady. This dame is waaaaay out of my league._

I sat down beside her and took a little notepad and pen from my breast pocket. I tilted my hat up with the pen as I flipped open the spiral notepad. At the click of the pen I looked at her and asked my first question.

"Are you ready to begin again?" I asked gently. She smiled softly and nodded.

"Have you noticed anyone new coming to the house lately? Did your father introduce you to any new acquaintances that struck you as unusual at all?" I began.

She thought for a moment. "No one comes to mind," she answered quietly.

"Anyone at the memorial service that you didn't recognize?" I asked carefully.

Her chin twitched ever so slightly before her shoulders squared and she gave her answer. "No," she said firmly.

_Not only classy. Courageous too. _

"Do you mind if I pay a visit to the country club and the office? Maybe talk to a few or his friends?" I continued.

"Not at all, Edward. Do what you feel is necessary," she replied as she dabbed at her nose and stood up to pluck her purse off the desk. Returning to her seat beside me she pulled out a silver compact and clicked it open.

"You know you don't _need_ that crap, right?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she dabbed her delicate cheekbone with the little puff.

"I understand it's all a part of the job, part of the show, but I like you without all the paint. You don't have to wear it around me," I said, and suddenly felt like I'd crossed a line. She turned to look at me and gave me a genuinely grateful look that went straight to my gut.

Before she could say something, I stood and went to the desk, pushing the chair away to make sure I didn't start the waterworks again with my insensitivity. I picked up the gala invitation and eyed her cautiously. She only watched me intently, still sitting gracefully erect on the settee like a golden Grecian statue.

"Were you planning on going?" I asked and waved the envelope slowly in front of me.

"I was...we were, before..." she whispered but no sign of tears.

"We need to crash this party. Do some people-watching, people-listening. You said he was friendly with everyone, so every joe and their brother is a suspect." I hesitated for a moment before getting to the meat of the issue, "Would you mind if I escorted you?" I said, as I casually rifled through the top drawer.

"Not at all, Edward," she said much too softly. I knew better than to look up so I kept my attention on the contents of the drawer I was rummaging through. I pulled out a check register and opened it, skimming through the pages until I came to the last few weeks of entries. There were several checks written to the staff for their pay, a payment to a roofing company for a small repair that had been done to the house, a check written out to _Dr. Carlisle Cullen_? My hand froze over the page for a brief moment before automatically reaching for my smokes and lighting one hurriedly. I took a long pull and forced myself to focus, plenty of time to mull over the implications of that later. The date on the check was two weeks ago and the memo line read "annual physical".

"Your father's visit with his doctor went smoothly? Nothing was found?" I questioned.

"No. Daddy was healthy, he took care of himself like I said. He was firm believer that him image was a reflection on the company."

"His doctor was Dr. Carlisle Cullen?" I asked, really fucking hoping it wasn't my father, Dr. Cullen, but knowing full well it probably was.

"Yes, he and his wife Esme have been friends of our family for the last decade or so," she said and my heart squeezed at hearing my mother's name spoken aloud. "Is he a relation of yours?" she asked.

"He was once," I said quickly and took another long drag off my Lucky Strike. Instead of looking up to see her reaction, I continued to pillage the drawers. Towards the back of the second drawer, I pulled out a rumpled and dirty piece of paper and plucked apart the well creased folds.

_We want our money, time's up. We got ya a one way ticket for a Lake Michigan cruise._

"Have you seen this note before?" I said to Rosalie, holding it out for her to examine. She took it from me and read it quickly. As she stood next to me, I caught the scent of her roses again.

"No, never," she said with alarm, her brow creasing in concern and confusion.

_Now I've got something_.

I took the note, refolded it and put it in my breast pocket. "Is your brother home? I'd like to meet him," I asked.

"I'm not sure, follow me downstairs," she said and turned to leave the room. The swishing hem of her skirt as she walked played seductively around her calves. My eyes traveled up to the soft curve of her hips, to her tumble of golden curls and I knew then and there it would be a miracle if I got this case solved and myself away from this Sheba intact.

At the bottom of the stairs she called to the maid, Emily, who scurried into the hall a moment later.

"Is Jasper home?" Rosalie questioned her.

"No he isn't Miss Rose. He left right after breakfast," she replied, looking disappointed that she wasn't more help. Rosalie turned to me, her blue eyes clear and devoid of any evidence of her earlier tears.

"When I see him, I'll arrange a time for you to meet him. Perhaps sometime tomorrow?" she asked hopefully but didn't give me time to answer.

"Give me your note pad," she said taking it gently from my hand. She reached for the pen in my other hand and plucked it from my fingers. Her fingers brushed against my hand and I _almost_ shivered. She quickly wrote something down and handed the pad back to me.

"My phone number," she explained, "Call me in the morning and I'll tell you when to come," she smiled. "Emily, will you get Mr. Cullen his things please and call him a cab. Oh, I broke something in the study, can you please get that taken care of?" Emily bobbed a curtsy and departed quickly.

"Edward... I want to thank you. Not only for taking my case, but for being...understanding upstairs," she said and took a step toward me. She gently placed her hands flatly on my chest and rose up on her toes. I stood there frozen and a little dazed as I felt her soft red lips place a lingering kiss on my cheek. She pulled away and stepped back.

I cleared my throat and nervously snatched my hat from Emily as she approached with my things. I dropped the hat on my head and shrugged into my coat.

"Thanks, Emily. Be a doll, won't you, and let the other staff know I'll be around tomorrow to ask them some questions?" I requested and grinned at her as I adjusted my coat on my shoulders.

"Yes, Sir, anything we can do to help," she nodded genuinely.

"Until tomorrow, Rosalie," I said, taking off my hat and bowing slightly. Emily opened the door and I turned on my heel and left.

The cab was freezing and I turned up the collar of my coat as I gave the cabbie my address in the south side neighborhood of Englewood.

I settled into the seat and took a generous swig of bourbon from my flask. As I felt the warmth of the bourbon burn through my chest, I mapped out my plan for the case.

First, I needed to question all of the staff; the help always knew _everything_. I was hoping they could give me enough that I wouldn't need to look any farther. Attending that gala meant spending more time with Rosalie, and I really wanted to get out of this case in one piece. _That_ gala with _that_ dame and _that_ crowd... no way I was making it out of there unscathed. The less time I spent with Rosalie Hale, the better.

Since I was never that lucky, I was going to have to visit the country club and pay some friendly calls to the friends Rosalie had mentioned, Walter Montgomery, James Smithe, and Reginald Williams. I'd met Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Williams before, under circumstances that hit much closer to their respective homes. The rich didn't have _a_ skeleton in the closet, they usually had a whole graveyard. But who was I to talk? I had three or four coffins under my bed too.

The cab pulled up to the curb in front of my building and I paid the cabbie my fare and got out. My apartment was cold and dark once I got inside and I hurried to the old radiator to turn up the heat. As I took off my coat, suit jacket and hat, I snapped on the Victrola and Tommy Dorsey's Opus One filled the tiny room while I proceeded to empty the contents of my pockets on the desk.

I loosened my tie and pulled my gun out of my holster, placing it softly on my desk as I sat down. The gun's cold blue steel shimmered as it caught the yellow lamplight and I traced the handle's outline with my index finger. It was the gun that had started the argument. The argument with my father when I told him I didn't want to be a doctor and I was leaving. I didn't want the lifestyle he and mom had, and the social bullshit that came with it. Looking back, he _had_ been understanding, but I let my temper get the better of me and said some things I regretted. That was the last time I saw either of my parents.

Now the possibility I had dreaded for the last ten years had finally happened. I was more than likely going to _have _to face my father in order to do my job. I picked up my pack and gently shook a cigarette out halfway. I slowly brought the pack to my lips, wrapping them around the filter, and tried not to think about seeing my father.

_Should've left Chicago months ago, like I wanted to, then I wouldn't be in this jam. _

The song on the radio changed, and I heard my favorite jazz singer, Billie Holiday, crooning "Stormy Weather".

_Thanks Billie, rub it in._

I poured myself some bourbon and took a draw from my smoke. _Rosalie Hale_.Her chaste little peck before I left her standing in the hall of her mansion played itself over and over again in my mind. I brought my fingers to my face and rubbed, realizing I probably had lipstick on my cheek. For some reason I didn't mind; not if it was _her_ lipstick.

_Rosalie Hale_. In one afternoon she had managed to flip everything on its head, and I couldn't get _her_ out of _my _head.

* * *

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	3. Moonlight Serenade

Chapter 3 - Moonlight Serenade

A/N – Lemon-y goodness ahead! Get your frosted mugs 'cause we are handing out the lemonade! And it's spiked.

**RPOV**

The vanity in my room held the top-of-the-line La Bella cosmetics. Spritzing myself with a spray of perfume, I checked the mirror one last time. Grabbing my beaded purse from my dresser, I stopped by Jasper's room to get the tuxedo he was letting me loan to Edward. Thankfully, they were just about the same size; it's a good thing since I was fairly certain Edward didn't have a tuxedo lying around his place. Holding onto the banister, I hurried down the grand staircase, nearly running into Emily at the bottom of the steps.

"Miss Rosalie! You look beautiful, as always. Red truly is your color!" she took me in, holding my hand as she twirled me around like a ballerina. Taking both of my hands in hers, she looked at me and said, "Your father would be proud, sweetheart. Please enjoy yourself tonight."

I did my best to hold back my tears, I felt like all I had been doing the past week was crying. Thankfully for me, I cried most of my tears during Edward's visit earlier in the week; I'm sure he didn't feel as fortunate to have seen them as I was to have a comforting shoulder while they were shed.

"Thank you so much for your kind words, Emily. I hope you and Sam enjoy your night off. Stay out of trouble." I gave her a knowing wink. I was quite certain that something had been going on between Emily and Sam for some time now. They didn't talk about it much but the looks they gave each other were loving and it made me yearn for something like that in my life.

Emmett walked through the foyer and I handed him the slip of paper where Edward had written his address in surprisingly elegant handwriting. He helped me on with my floor length white Ermine coat and we headed out the front door as I waved goodbye to Emily over my shoulder.

My mind danced with thoughts on the ride to Edward's place and Emmett seemed to understand that I'd prefer the radio to conversation. Edward had been at the house quite often in the past week, although it didn't seem as though he was any closer to finding any concrete leads. He did suggest that he'd found some things that he would research further but nothing had panned out thus far. I was getting used to seeing him around the house and he seemed to be forming a connection with the staff. _And me._

Thoughts drifted to the line of reporters we would face when walking into the Gala and how I would handle the questions about Edward. I knew that there would be whispers about me being out so soon after my father's death and whether I had time to properly mourn. Edward's presence only complicated matters: Who was he? How was I involved with him? Why hadn't he been seen with me prior to Daddy's death? I figured that I would put a positive spin on this, tell the reporters that I knew it was best as the new CEO of La Bella to continue on as my father would have. I hoped that they hailed me as a woman with good business sense. As for the questions regarding Edward, that was a bit trickier. I figured I'd try to be as vague as possible, giving them only bits and pieces of information. Basically, I planned on lying. They didn't need to know the real reason to our being at the Gala and they certainly didn't need to know of Edward's profession.

The buildings in Edward's neighborhood looked a bit run down and I realized I didn't really know what type of home a detective would live in. Emmett stopped the car in front of a building and I saw him rechecking the scrap of paper where Edward had written the address.

"Rosalie? I think this is it. Can I walk you in?" he asked, hesitation in his voice. I could tell why. It wasn't a nice area of the city and he was nervous about bringing me here. I thought about it for a moment while Emmett scanned the area, I assumed to make sure that everything was safe before he allowed me to exit the car.

"You can walk me into the front hallway, Emmett. Then perhaps circle the block a few times to keep the car warm until we are ready to head to the Gala?" I asked as he assisted me out of the car and carried the tuxedo over his arm. He gripped my arm tightly, as if he were my personal bodyguard.

We walked up the few steps to a stoop and into the vestibule at the top. He handed me the tuxedo and stood at the foot of the stairs, watching me walk up the stairwell to the first landing. Passing doors one and two, I stopped and knocked on the door marked three. Hearing his footsteps coming toward the door, I looked over to where Emmett stood, looking apprehensive and a bit perturbed at the thought of leaving me there. I shooed him away with a wave of my hand, insisting I was fine.

Door three swung open and Edward was suddenly in front of me, leaning his arm over his head on the thin wood of the door. His slacks rode low on his hips and he wore nothing on his torso but a sleeveless undershirt. My mouth went dry and my eyes took in his bare arms, muscular chest and lazy grin. His arm snaked out and pulled me into the room as he kicked the door closed behind us. Shaking my head, I looked around the barren studio apartment that doubled as his office. The first thing my mind registered was there was no bed. Blushing, I shook my head at the thought, trying to shake the dirty thoughts right out of my head. I handed the tuxedo to Edward and he hung it on the screen that separated the room in two, looking at me questioningly. I went to remove my coat but he shook his head, explaining the room was a bit cold.

"Can I interest you in the one cent tour?" he smirked at me as I looked around. He took one step to the desk. "This is the office." He took a few steps toward the back of the apartment, jerking his chin to the left. "Kitchen." Jerked his chin to the right toward a small door. "John." He walked a few steps to the right and hit the wall. "Bed." The Murphy bed fell to the ground with a thud. His eyebrows raised slightly and I saw that wicked gleam in his eye as he looked down at the bed and then back up at me. "Would you like to have a seat?"

There was an overstuffed chair near his desk and I quickly sat down in the chair, trying to look anywhere but him and failing miserably. "I hope the tuxedo works well for you. If we had more time, I would have sent it over to our tailor but I think that you and Jasper are basically the same size so it probably won't be too much of a problem. But if it is, I can always try to-"

"Doll, relax. It will be fine. Why don't you help yourself to a drink?" he motioned to the bottle sitting on the desk next to my arm, while he moved to the other side of the screen, presumably to put on the tuxedo. I looked around for a glass but didn't see any sitting out.

"Edward, where can I find a glass?" I asked, calling over the screen. I don't know why I bothered raising my voice; it's not like the screen did anything to break up the noise in the room. He appeared next to me, shirt undone and working the cuff links through the left cuff. He sauntered over to the small kitchenette area, took two glasses out of the cabinet above the sink. He poured us each much more than two fingers and I picked mine up from the desk.

"Cheers," he said, as he clinked his glass to mine and threw his head back, downing the entire glass in one shot. I took a tentative sip of mine, the alcohol burning its way down my throat, and I tried not to cough. My eyes filled with tears yet again, and for the first time in a week, it wasn't because I was sad. Edward headed back to the other side of the screen and continued to get ready as I nursed the bourbon in my glass.

"So here's the deal for tonight. We go, we mingle. Keep an ear to the ground and our eyes on the prize. You make your way around the room and do your thing. Mingle. Talk to the people you think might know something. Hell, talk to the people you think _wouldn't_ know something. We'll meet up after a bit and compare notes." I heard his voice floating around the screen, like he was pacing while he was talking. I heard the door to the bathroom hit the wall and him rustling around in there.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath and I got up from where I was perched on the chair.

Rounding the screen, I saw him standing with the bathroom door open, struggling with the bow tie. "Can I help you with something?" I asked as I made my way over to where he was. I joined him in the tiny bathroom, placing myself between him and the mirror over the sink. Pushing his hands away from the tie, I started fussing with it, pulling one side down slightly lower than the other before crossing the longer side over the shorter one. "Jasper's never really been good with bow ties so I got to practice with him when he was learning from Daddy." I finished and straightened the tie and gave him the once over. He had slicked his hair back with Brylcreem and shaved, ridding himself of the five o'clock shadow I'd grown accustomed to him having. However, it appeared that even though he had just recently shaved, the stubborn stubble was making its way back to his face already. "The tuxedo fits you well. You look really handsome."

He started to protest and I put my fingers to his lips. "You should accept a compliment as it is given to you." I felt the porcelain sink against the small of my back through my coat and the walls of the small bathroom seemed to be pushing us even closer together.

He stared at me hard for a moment and I felt his lips move against my fingertips. "Rosalie," his voice held a warning, his eyes clouding over a bit as he moved his face closer to mine.

"Why don't we stop talking, Edward?" I removed my fingers from his lips and ran them up the side of his jaw. My heart thudded wildly in my chest as I let go of all pretense. Tilting my head slightly, I willed for him to move his face closer to mine, to close the small gap that remained between our bodies.

A knock at the door broke us apart. Edward moved to run his hands through his hair until he remembered it was full of Brylcreem. Shoving them in the pockets of the tuxedo instead, he threw open the door to find Emmett standing in the doorway.

"Emmett," it came out half greeting, half growl as Edward strode over to the desk, picked up my glass of bourbon and finished it off.

"It's nearly 7:30, Miss Rosalie. We really should get you and Mr. Cullen to the Gala," Emmett said as he looked down, knowing he had interrupted something.

"Thank you, Emmett. We'll be out in a moment."

He nodded once before giving Edward a hard look and turned to go wait in the car once more. Unsure of what to say, I collected my purse from the desk while Edward put on his coat in silence. He poured himself a bit more Wild Turkey and threw it back before looking over at me.

"I suppose we better get a move on," he said, a little too casually.

"I suppose so," I replied.

We descended the steps from his apartment to the waiting car. The ride was brief and we were at the Knickerbocker Hotel before I had much time to think any further about what had nearly happened at Edward's or what was going to happen when we arrived. As I expected, there was a horde of reporters waiting near the front door. I stopped and spoke with them for a few moments, Edward standing by my side, holding my arm. Their questions ranged from the standards about La Bella, how I was dealing with my father's death, and who was escorting me this evening. Smiling at him, I held his gaze as I told them that he was a family friend. That was all the information they were going to get from me and they seemed satisfied with what I provided them.

Once inside the venue, I shed my coat, revealing my red gown. The rhinestone straps felt a bit heavy on my shoulders, a contradiction to the rest of the dress which was made of light satin material. It dipped low in the back and the material fell on my curves, hugging them and showing them off. My tailor had created a small bustle with the train of the dress, which I unhooked so that it fell to the floor in a cascade. Edward had been uncharacteristically quiet and I chalked it up to his lack of experience or perhaps his observations of everything. Handing my coat to the man working at the coat check, I noticed that Edward was assessing me with his eyes in a way that was a bit unnerving. I asked worriedly, "Is everything all right? Do I look okay?" Looking down, I wondered if there was a pull in my dress or if I had gotten a stain that I failed to notice.

"It's a good thing you didn't take off your coat at my place," he said as he circled around me.

Oh. _Oh._ Well, then. I flushed with pleasure.

"Doll! Rosie-baby! Come here and give Alec a hug!" Alec Demontey came strutting toward where Edward and I were standing. Under my breath I whispered his name and status in the Chicago business world to Edward.

Alec approached and drew me close to his body. "Good to see you here, Rosie-baby. We weren't sure you'd be here, what with your father's passing and all. God rest his soul. You holding up okay, kid?"

I smiled a smile that felt anything but real to me. Edward could see through the fakeness of it but it had Alec eating out of the palm of my hand. "I'm doing well, Alec, all things considered. Have you met Edward Cullen?" The two men flanked me on either side and I introduced Edward as the three of us entered the ballroom. The two men made small talk while I visited the bar, getting beverages for the three of us. It wasn't customary for a lady to visit the bar, but I figured that since I'd be entering the man's world of business, it was important that these men see me as an equal. While at the bar, I caught sight of Stevie Torrino. After giving the drinks to Edward and Alec, I made my way over to Stevie.

Stevie Torrino was a well known character of questionable reputation in Chicago. He had more money than Rockefeller although it wasn't well known exactly how he'd made his fortune. He was standing near a few of his cronies, smoking a cigar. His eyes lit up when he saw me making my way over to them, hips swaying seductively and pursing my lips.

"Sweets! Didn't think I'd be seeing you out and about so soon. What are you doing keeping company with Cullen? Don't you know spending your time with a private dick is nearly as bad as keeping company with a copper? You ain't here to cause _trouble_, are you, sweet cheeks?" he grabbed me close to his body, his hands roaming all over mine. These men certainly were all very _handsy. _

"Stevie, you know I'm not a troublemaker. Cullen is nothing more than a family friend, he told me he would escort me after my father's passing."

"Your father was a good man, sweets. Heart attack, they said? May he rest in peace!" he picked up the glass he had resting on the table next to him and raised it in a toast to my father. I saw Edward across the room, watching my interaction with Stevie as he conversed with Alec.

"Yes, I do miss him quite a bit. It's been a very rough week," I lingered, not sure how I could possibly bait him into telling me if he knew something more about my father's passing. "It came as such a shock, being that he was in such great shape and good health."

"Well, we'll all miss him, that's for sure. He was a good man, always on the up and up. Never looked down at nobody. He will be missed." Stevie wasn't giving me anything except empty compliments about my father. While it was all very nice to hear, it was a waste of my time. I thought about getting another drink or another graceful way to exit the conversation when he turned to the man on his right and asked if we had met.

"Frankie Jones, have you met Rosalie Hale? She's taking over La Bella Cosmetics." It wasn't necessary to tell him of my father, I could tell by Frankie's expression that he already knew all about his death. _Bingo! Maybe this fool would give me something Edward could work with. _

"Very nice to meet you, Frankie." I put out my hand to shake his and he used the connection to pull me in close to his body.

"Very nice to meet _you,_ Rosalie," he said as he took hold of my arm and started walking with me.

Stevie looked over as we started to drift away from where he was standing. "Oh, and sweets? If you ever find out that something went down with his death that wasn't legit, you just let me know. You understand me?"

Frankie steered me away from Stevie and the rest of the men we were standing with. He continued leading me away, past the other Gala attendees. I was a bit alarmed, but I figured it was all in the name of detective work. "I was wondering how you are doing since the untimely passing of your father."

I felt a bit unnatural speaking about something like this with someone I didn't know. I gave the standard answer, "It's been a difficult week but I have close family and friends that are helping me through this tough time." Perhaps from my tone he could understand that I didn't consider _him_ to be included in that group of people.

His arm was slung over my shoulder and he ran a fat finger along the strap of my dress. "Ah yes, you have a brother, right? Jasper?" I nodded my head.

He leaned in and his breath reeked of a mixture of alcohol and cigar. I tried hard not to flinch away but moved my head back so that my face wasn't directly near his mouth. "Love the way you look in this dress," he breathed out, the same finger running along the side of my breast. "I think I'd love it even more if I could see you _out_ of this dress."

My eyes widened as he tried to wrap his body around mine. My fists clenched at my sides and I knew if I could get away with it, I would punch this man in his jewels like Jasper had taught me. "Mr. Jones, I'm not sure that this is entirely appropriate." I put my hand on his chest and playfully pushed him back, rather than using my full strength and knocking him over, which I probably could have done given how drunk he was. I tried to be cautious of his feelings and remove myself from the situation. This man had _nothing_ to offer me about my father and everything to offer me in the way of trouble. Not the heart trouble that came along with Edward but _real _trouble. I finished my flute of champagne and decided to use it as an excuse to get another one and away from Frankie.

"I think I'm going to go pick up another drink. Would you like anything from the bar? I could send a waiter over to assist you." Not that he needed it, since he smelled like he'd already emptied a bar of his own this evening.

"No thank you, sweet cheeks. But make sure that we catch up later, huh? I have a room right upstairs." He gave me a parting slap to the derriere as I walked toward the bar. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him wink at me and I shuddered, turning back toward the bar. Edward came into my line of vision, his face contorted into an angry scowl. Afraid I had done something wrong in my Girl Friday duties, I looked up at him, a bit frightened.

"Are you insane? How could you just go off with that guy? He looked like he was planning on dragging you off and having his way with you in some back alley!" His eyes were murderous and I could feel the heat rolling of him without even touching him.

My drink forgotten, I looked for a diversion. The band had just started playing "I'm a Fool to Want You," the vocalist softly crooning into the microphone.

I grabbed his hand, imploring him with my eyes. "Don't worry about that joker. He was disgusting but I could handle him. Dance with me? _Please?_" I didn't even know if Edward enjoyed dancing but I was hoping this would be a good distraction and a chance to talk. Not that I had much information to share.

"Of course," he murmured, "I should have been the one to ask you." Picking up the train of my skirt, I found the small rhinestone bracelet my tailor had sewn to the inside of the material. His hand rested on my waist as he led me to the center of the dance floor, before he took me into his arms.

**EPOV **

"It's a good thing you didn't take off your coat at my place," I whispered near her ear as I circled her.

_Because if you had, we never would've made it out of my apartment. _

"Doll! Rosie-baby! Come here and give Alec a hug!" I heard someone call above the noise of the crowd. Rosalie introduced him as Alec Demontey before walking off towards the bar. Don't expect me to remember what Alec and I talked about. I only took notice of how Rosalie caught the eye of every fella in the room as they parted to make way for _her_. I nodded along and pretended to pay attention to what Alec was saying, and if I were half the detective I claimed to be, I would have been giving him the third degree. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from Rosalie walking toward me with our drinks, a sexy confident smirk on her ruby red lips, looking as stunning as everyone expected her to. Still, apart from _that dress_, I liked her better natural.

_That dress._ My jaw clenched.

"Here you are, Edward, your bourbon. And Alec" she said handing us our glasses. "Now if you'll excuse me for a moment gentleman, I see someone I must say hello to," she said and gave me a significant look. She turned to leave and I watched her weave her way gracefully through the crowded dance floor...and away from me.

_Goddamn that dress._ How does she expect me to do my job when I can't take my eyes off of her and _that goddamn dress_? I ground my teeth together as I realized that all my working plans for crashing this ritzy gig fell apart the moment her fur coat fell away from her_._

Alec kept the chatter up without much encouragement from me, and I was able to keep an eye on Rosalie. She glided over to Stevie Torrino, a well known mob crony with whom I'd had a few run-ins. I watched her talk to him with a casual friendliness and saw nothing to raise my suspicion, but plenty to pique my jealousy. Another lackey, whom I didn't recognize, staggered drunkenly over to her and pulled her away from Stevie.

I felt as though my anger had turned my eyes black as I watched him drape his arm around her bare shoulder and trace the strap of her dress with his thick, greasy finger. Enraptured, I kept watching while my fury grew by the second. His finger continued going down her side and over to barely graze the side of her breast.

"Excuse me, Alec," I blurted abruptly and left him in mid-sentence, ditching my drink on a nearby table. I dodged the couples dancing as best I could, all while keeping my eyes on Rosalie and that bastard who was about to wish he hadn't shown up here tonight. Just as I was about to break it up, I saw him slap her ass and my chest rumbled with wrath.

"Are you insane?" I said, as I came up to her, "How could you just go off with that guy? He looked like he was planning on dragging you off and having his way with you in some back alley!" It took all my control to keep my voice at a reasonable volume.

"Don't worry about that joker. He was disgusting but I could handle him. Dance with me? _Please?_" she pleaded.

"Of course, I should have been the one to ask you," I said tensely and tried to let go of the anger that was making me ball my fists. I motioned for her to follow me to the middle of the dance floor and turned to face her. With my left hand, I gently touched her elbow, and ran my finger down the length of her forearm, catching her wrist and pulling her toward me. I took a step closer to her and brought my other hand up behind her back and to her shoulder blades, gently trailing my hand down her bare back until it rested on her satin covered waist. She swallowed adorably and blinked at me.

"Did wearing that dress pay off?" I murmured near her ear as we began to sway slowly back and forth.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

_Really?_

"Did you learn anything?" I clarified.

"Stevie offered his er... services should I need them in relation to Daddy's death," she glanced at me to see my reaction before continuing. "And Frankie asked about Jasper," she added.

"Frankie must be that prick that can't take a hint," I said through clenched teeth. I felt her soft little finger on my lips again.

"Hush, Edward. I could use a few laughs tonight. Help me have a good time? _Please_?" She pleaded and there wasn't anything I would have denied her when her blue eyes glowed like that.

_See, Cullen? There's no way in hell you are getting out of this with your heart intact._

I pulled her closer to me and nuzzled my nose in her hair, "How is it you always smell like roses?" I whispered and took a deep breath.

"It's perfume, silly. La Bella, of course," she said as I slowly twirled her around once and pulled her smoothly back to me, our feet falling easily into the dance steps.

"I underestimated you, Edward. I didn't expect you to be a dancer, or to clean up so nicely," she acknowledged with a delighted smile.

"I'm full of surprises, Rosie," I purred, and stared directly into the blue depths of her eyes.

_I didn't expect you to be so lovely and so _real_. _

I brought my mouth to her ear, the tip of my nose grazing her cheek along the way. "Wanna get out of here?" I murmured, my detective duties entirely forgotten.

"The sooner the better," she whispered breathlessly.

In the limo, my fingers burned to touch her. After the days of getting to know each other better, the near kiss in my bathroom this evening and the torture of watching every man at the Gala undress her with their eyes, I couldn't ignore that I was in serious fucking trouble. If she showed the slightest interest in me, I'd have _that dress_ off of her so fast it would make her gorgeous little head spin… and my golden rule about not sleeping with clients would be sleeping with the fishes.

At least I had still that condom in my wallet, the one I carried as a talisman against entrapment.

She seemed to hum beside me, emitting an electricity that drew me like a moth. It took a lot for me not to slide closer to her. Whenever the darkness of the car was illuminated by a passing vehicle or streetlight, our eyes would meet, the expectation clearly written in her pouty lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

I wanted to be good. I wanted to be professional. So I made a vow that I'd wait for her to make the first move, but I bargained with myself that at the first sign of a green light, I _would_ act.

The car pulled up to the house and Emmett opened the door for us. As we entered the mansion, Emily took our coats and every last vestige of my will power crumbled when I got another eye full of _that dress_.

Emily disappeared and Rosalie turned to me with hooded eyes.

"I'm going to change," she said with a playful shrug of her slender shoulders.

_Can I help you with that? _

What I actually said was, "Got any Wild Turkey?"

"I think so, in daddy's office," she said, daintily clutching the banister and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, "You know, upstairs."

_Green light if I've ever seen one. _

I smiled, wickedly triumphant, and bowed to her, "After you," I said. She smiled and turned to lead the way.

I untied my bow tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of my shirt as I followed her up the stairs. I let my gaze fix upon her full, perfect ass accentuated by the sway of her hips as she moved. With each sway to the left, then languidly to the right, my cock grew harder. At the top of the landing she glanced at me over her shoulder.

"Be right back," she smiled and went towards her bedroom. After a moment the radio came on, and I heard the horns of Glenn Miller's Orchestra trumpeting "Moonlight Serenade."

Once inside the office, I strode to the drink cart and took the cap off the first bottle I grabbed, giving it a whiff to determine its contents. _Whiskey_. Whatever. I didn't care that much, I just needed something wet. I grabbed two glasses, swiped the bottle off the cart and made my way to the doorway of her bedroom.

I leaned against the door frame with my arm raised over my head. She didn't know I was standing there watching her. The room was dark; she hadn't bothered to turn on the light for some reason. The only light came from the soft glow of the radio dial. She stood in front of her vanity which was littered with make-up containers and perfume bottles. Her slender frame twisted as she tried to pull down the zipper of her gown, which appeared to be very conveniently stuck.

_I can help with that._

I stealthily walked into the room and moved toward the nightstand on my right. The bed was adorned with a thick, white satin coverlet, the hint of a satin sheet peeked out at me from under the stack of pillows that ran along the headboard. And the bed was _massive._

_Good, plenty of room._

I smiled in anticipation as I sat the glasses and whiskey down on the dark wood of the nightstand, being careful not to clink them together. I didn't want her to know I was there yet. She was still fiddling with her zipper and growing impatient as she huffed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. I pulled my wallet from my pocket and opened it, extracting the discreet square paper envelope that read "Devil Skin" and set both down on the nightstand.

_Better keep my talisman handy._

I came up close behind her, and swept the heavy curtain of her hair off of her back and over her shoulder. I slid my fingertips luxuriously down her shoulder blade and towards her ribs until I felt the cold metal tab of the zipper. On the first try, I got it to slide open. My fingers sizzled as they pulled the zipper and skimmed her ribcage all the way down to her hip bone, until the zipper refused to go further. My hand had no such constraints, and I let it rest on her pelvic bone, my fingers digging into her. I heard a low, long moan float out of her softly parted lips and she let her head fall back to rest on my chest. I brought my other hand around the front of her and found her soft cheek. With the back of my hand, I gently caressed her from her temple to her jaw. I bent my head and nuzzled my nose just below her ear and I was suddenly aware of her perfectly sculpted ass _right fucking there,_ pressed so close to me that there was no way she wasn't aware of how hard I was for her.

"Rose," I moaned intending it to be a question, asking her permission to go further, but instead it escaped my lips in the form of a strangled plea for her to put me out of my fucking misery.

She turned around and looked me dead in the eye. What I saw in her gaze was every green light in Chicago.

I crushed her to me with a whimper. My mouth seized upon hers, she responded, eagerly engaging my tongue that waged a war with hers. She reached up to run her hand through my hair and pulled my head back, breaking the kiss so she could pepper my stubbled jaw with hot little kisses. My eyes rolled back in my head and I knew I was a goner. Her hands slid the suspenders off my shoulders then began eagerly unfastening the buttons of my shirt. I worked on my cufflinks, tossing them carelessly on the floor while I coaxed her backwards and into the wall. Once I had her cornered, I pulled away from her and brought my hands to the straps of her gown. I never broke my gaze from her eyes as I slowly guided the straps down and off the sweet sloping curve of her shoulder.

Her gown fell to the floor around her ankles in a pile of billowing satin and the sight it revealed _took my fucking breath away_.

She wore nothing but a pair of red satin panties trimmed in thick lace, and a matching garter belt that held her stockings up.

_That's it._

I grabbed her, a hand on each cheek of her glorious ass, and lifted her up. She read my mind and wrapped her perfect legs around my waist, kissing me deeply. I kissed her back just as firmly and carried her to the vanity. I sat her down on top of it, making her perfume bottles clink together in the darkness as I ground my hips eagerly into her. She whimpered and her fingers tangled tightly in my hair. I repeated the motion with more insistence and continued to kiss her; unable to pull myself away even if I'd wanted to. I slid my hand firmly from her knee up to the top of her stocking. With a snap of my fingers, I quickly unhooked the two little straps that held the silk stocking in place and began to slowly roll it down her thigh to her ankle and off her foot. I began the process again on her other leg before I broke the kiss and moved my head between her legs, leaving a torturous trail of wet kisses down her thigh and around her knee. When I pulled the other stocking off, she leaned back, splaying her hands on the vanity and I heard the crashing of god knows what falling to the floor. She arched her back ever so slightly, jutting her tits out into the cool air, bestowing me with the gift of..._herself._

I stood before her and bent my head over her chest. I ran the tip of my nose along her breast bone, stopping only to plant a single kiss right above her heart.

I felt her trembling hands pull my shirt off my shoulders and down my arms, dropping it on the floor next to us. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my socks off with my feet while her hands deftly moved from my chest and down to the cummerbund around my waist. She wrapped her luscious gams around me again, and pulled me impatiently and impossibly closer to her before reaching around my back and unfastening the cummerbund and tossing it onto the floor.

"Rosie," I whispered into the darkness and my head tilted back in rapture. I felt her delicate little fingers slowly unfasten my pants. Both her hands came to rest on my hips for a moment before she guided the slacks off of me and onto the floor. She pushed against my chest and I reluctantly pulled away from her. She stood and kissed me fiercely, coaxing _me_ backwards until I felt the bed hit the back of my legs. I sat down expecting her to stop, but she didn't. So I laid back and waited with bated breath to see what my Rosie wanted.

_Because I was to ready to give her anything._

_

* * *

_KrisBCullen gets lots of love. And TheHeartofLifeisGood gets lots of spiked lemonade.

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	4. Stardust

Chapter 4 - Stardust

**RPOV**

In the past, my lovers had been slow. Gentle. Considerate. Treating me as much as a lady in the bedroom as they had in the street. It had been lovely.

_It had been boring. _

Edward was not boring. Edward was anything _but_ boring. I knew this from the moment I saw him at the diner. Confirmed it while he held me as I shed tears for my father. Couldn't resist it when we danced at the Gala.

He was _everywhere._ Surrounding me and spurring me on with his hands, mouth, and body on every part of my body. In my life, I had never felt so overpowered before.

_I liked it. I wanted it._

The slow burn that had been building between us the entire week had finally ignited. It was obvious we were both about to be consumed. Apparently the dress I had picked for the Gala called to him, making him abandon ship and jump toward the rocks. I felt powerful for being able to do that. Whoever said women were the weaker sex completely underestimated the power inherent in driving a man to such behavior. In that moment, he was mine to control. Sure, men believed that they had the upper hand when it came to me. Not just in the bedroom but everywhere. I liked to make them feel like they did, like they were in control. But usually? I was the one manipulating things. The control was all mine, and they did my bidding without even realizing. I had always had a keen understanding of my sexuality, my power over men. I used it to my advantage and made it work for me. Those men didn't know how to tame me and they sure as hell didn't make me feel like_ this._

To bed _this _man was dangerous. Our personalities were both strong and overpowering, two fighters battling to see who would come out on top. From the moment we locked eyes in the diner until we locked limbs on the dance floor, it was apparent that we would ultimately battle in the bedroom. We fought for control and I was winning and losing, all at the same time. He was a delicious challenge, one that made me want to work my best to make him mine. He didn't seem like he was one that would easily be owned, which made me want him _that much more._

I pushed him back onto the bed and slid up and over his body. My eyes roamed over him and took in everything. _I shall be on top. _I smirked down at him, leaning toward his face and tracing the line of his jaw with my tongue. He let out a low groan, grabbed my hips and started to twist his pelvis in an effort to flip me under him, but I had the upper hand. I encircled his wrists with my fingers and brought his hands up over his head, delighting in the shocked expression that danced across his face as I pinned him to the mattress. I led my hands lightly down his arms as my greedy fingers searched for the edge of his undershirt. Once found, I tugged at it, desperate to be rid of the thin layer of fabric separating us. I let him up just enough for me to work it up his torso and over his head, pressing myself against him the moment his skin was bare. While I had my arms over his head, his mouth lowered and caught my left nipple. He nibbled lightly on it with his teeth before peppering it with kisses. Wanton moans escaped my mouth and, if I hadn't been so caught up in the moment, I might have blushed. I'd _never_ felt like this before. Strong and uncontrollable desire rose from deep within me. Sensing a moment of weakness, he was able to flip us. He was loomed over me, eyes smoldering with want.

"So you liked the dress, hmmm?" I asked as his eyes watched my lips move.

Leaning forward, his lips caught mine. "I liked the dress," he affirmed. "I like _you, _with or without the dress. Right now? Without."

His hand snaked down and in one fluid motion, he pushed off his underwear. My panties were the only thing between us and we both reached toward them, hands fighting hands, fighting satin, battling to remove the last shred of clothing separating us. He was victorious as he pushed the panties down over my long legs and flung them carelessly over his shoulder. Then, slowly, cat-like, he crawled up my body. His mouth licked and sucked the smooth flesh of my legs as he moved up my body. His nose grazed my knee and I felt the short stubble from his chin scratch against my inner thigh, the roughness against my smooth skin reminding me of his gruff manliness. Clutching his hair in my hands, I wove my fingers through the mess on top of his head, the Brylcreem not able to contain it. It made my hands slick, but I was still able to grab fistfuls of hair.

I expected him to continue his way up my body, worshiping me with his mouth.

However, one thing I had learned in the time I'd spent with Edward Cullen was that I should never expect anything.

Worship me with his mouth, he did. The heat of his breath hovered between my legs and I tried, in vain, to pull him up my body with his hair. The Brylcreem made that next to impossible. No one had _ever_ done this to me before. I felt him slowly shake his head, preventing me from pulling him away. The stubble lightly grazed the apex of my legs and made my entire body tremble in anticipation.

I felt his breath, hotly whispering around me. In me. My body shook as I struggled to hold on.

"Rosie, you gotta let go of that control. Let _me_ rule _you_ for once. Like you've ruled me the past week. Like you ruled me tonight in the ridiculously sexy dress," he breathed out. His tongue jutted out of his mouth and into the most intimate of places on my body. I gasped at the contact and, despite myself, felt my legs open wider to grant him access. His hand ran under my leg, thigh to ankle, and he moved it so it rested on his shoulder. _Oh! _He then moved the same hand down and started petting me with his fingers as his mouth continued to do things that in the past might have made me blush just thinking about.

My mind grew fuzzy and my body was growing hotter and hotter. I pulsed with waves of pleasure brought on by Edward's mouth. His tongue moved like the waves on the shore, pushing forward and then receding, only to rush forward yet again a moment later. It was driving me wild. I grappled at his shoulders, finally able to pull his face up and off of me. I needed _him._ Not his mouth. _Him._ Tugging at him, he moved up the bed and laid his head on my pillows, next to me.

"Rosie, I-"

I didn't want to hear what he had to say. I certainly didn't want him to think I was backing down from his offer. Reaching over, I removed the prophylactic from my nightstand that I had noticed he placed there while he thought I wasn't looking. Holding it between my index and middle fingers, I waggled it back and forth. "Am I that much of a sure thing?"

Propping his head up on one hand and slowly running a finger down my side with the other, he smiled slowly. "Well, I do have you in your bed, don't I?"

"Technically speaking, I believe _I_ have _you _in _my _bed." I smiled a soft smile while I looked at the paper slip that held the condom. I read the words "Devil Skin" and couldn't contain my full smirk. _How appropriate. _I opened the edge of the paper that held the condom and slid it out, gingerly.

"Can I..." I trailed off, not entirely sure how to ask. I hadn't done this before. But, I reasoned, tonight had been a night for firsts. I felt the color flood not only my cheeks, but my entire body. I noticed him watching me and my blush and it only resulted in more of a blush.

He knew exactly what I wanted to do without me finishing the thought. He was gentleman enough not to make me say it, but wanton enough to show me how. Taking my hands into his, he brought them down to his penis, showing me what to do and hissing at the touch of my tentative fingers rolling it down his shaft.

"What you do to me, Rosie," he growled as he got up on his hands and knees, hovering over me.

He pulled my legs apart and knelt between them, running his hands down the length of them before wrapping them around his hips. Grabbing my ass he pulled me toward him before positioning himself and slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped at the feeling; me consuming him, him consuming me. Joined together as one, we started to move. I could tell he was trying to go slowly, to allow my body some time to adjust to him.

I didn't want _slow._ All I ever knew was going slow and that's_ not_ what we were about. It was laughable for us to even _consider_ slow.

I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him. "You need to move faster."

"Always so fucking demanding," he admonished, all the while moving at a faster, more frenzied pace. He hands were placed on both sides of my head and the biceps in his arms were taut as he held his upper body up over me. Our lower bodies danced together, the feel of his hips upon mine was sublime. He bought me. Owned me. Possessed me.

He moved his right arm below my back, cradling me to him and shifting his angle so that he was thrusting further into me. My senses were on overload. My body couldn't get close enough to his and my head fell back. He attacked my neck, sucking along the exposed skin there. My breasts pushed forward, demanding attention as well. He did not disappoint and bent his neck slightly, sucking and nipping at them. His thrusting movements never slowed as our hips moved in time together.

"Fuck, Rosalie. You feel so good and you smell... amazing. You _always_ smell amazing. I can't get enough of you."

Faster still, we moved together. Our bodies, primal and wild, rushed toward our imminent release. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer to me, if it were possible. And it was, in the deepest darkest places of my being.

Then we both cried out, our lusty calls breaking the quiet of the house. My body clenched around him just before he let out a low, guttural groan, throwing his head back. He fell on top of me, exhausted. I felt as though I might float away yet the weight of him laying on top of me kept me anchored. He held me down and gave the night a feeling of reality it might not have had otherwise. I buried my nose in his hair, kissing the top of his forehead.

"I'll be right back, sweetness. Don't move a muscle." He got up and made his way to the bathroom. _No problem there. I don't think I could move if I tried. _After a few moments, he reappeared. Naked as the day he was born, he bent over his discarded jacket and plucked his cigarette pack and lighter from the breast pocket. After lighting up, he found an ashtray by the radio. He placed it on the nightstand, along with his lighter and cigarettes, next to his wallet and the empty prophylactic wrapper.

"Now _I'll_ be right back," I said, as I quickly headed to the bathroom, watching him settle onto the bed over my shoulder. Running the water in the sink basin, I pulled my hair back and quickly washed my face. Smiling, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I had never felt so alive.

I quickly finished in the bathroom and considered throwing on the silk robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. Instead, I walked out of the bathroom, both body and face naked. I watched him watching me walk toward the bed. His smile widened as I drew near and he said, "There's my Rosie," almost to himself. He made room for me on the bed once more, but only enough that I could lay down flush against him. My skin against his. I settled in next to him and he took a long drag of his cigarette. Reaching over, I took the cigarette from his hand. Gazing at me questioningly, I could tell he was perplexed, until I took a puff of the cigarette myself. Slowly I drew the smoke into my lungs before pushing it out of my mouth.

"You want one?" he offered, starting to move off the bed to get the pack.

I tugged his arm back, not wanting him to be anywhere but right there beside me. "No, I like yours." Handing it back to him, I rested my head on his chest, listening as the rhythmic beat of his heart matched with "Stardust" playing on the radio. "You're staying, right?" I asked drowsily, as I snuggled into his arm.

"Nowhere I'd rather be, Rosalie."

Satisfied, my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.

**EPOV**

That fist full of trouble that I knew was coming had just laid me flat out on her satin covered, king sized bed. The crazy thing was I was ready to get right back up and be her punching bag.

"Now _I'll _be right back," she murmured before sauntering to the bathroom. After a moment I heard the water running through the pipes.

I sat upright on the bed, my back resting on a mountain of creamy slick satin pillows, and lazily enjoyed my smoke, which always perfectly complimented the after effects of _really_ fucking good sex. A few minutes later, I heard the water shut off and my eyes flew to the bathroom door, where she emerged, gloriously nude and completely free. She'd washed off the mask of make-up that, at first, had tricked me into thinking that she was average in all the ways that mattered.

"There's _my_ Rosie," I said as she crawled back into the bed and draped herself next to me. Once she was comfortable, she plucked the cigarette from my fingers and took a long pull. I'd never seen her smoke until that moment, and I was distracted by the way her full lips caressed the thin white paper as they puckered sinfully around the thin cigarette.

"You want one?" I offered and started towards my pack. _Because_ _I can watch that all night._

"No, I like yours," she said and pulled me back down. I smiled at her confession despite myself. She handed the cigarette back to me and settled herself pleasantly against me, her head resting on my chest.

"You're staying, right?" she asked, half sleepy, half hopeful.

"Nowhere I'd rather be, Rosalie," I promised and she snuggled closer. It wasn't long before I heard her, very softly and very adorably, snoring.

As I reached over and tapped my cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, I wondered why I wasn't looking for an excuse to escape her bedroom. I didn't usually _sleep_ with dames; it set...expectations. But Rosalie wasn't the average girl either. When we had first met, I'd pegged her wrong. I'd assumed she was like so many other beautiful girls, all looks and no substance. No smarts. No spirit. They had been boring. Boring on a date, and _really_ fucking boring in the sack.

Tonight confirmed what I had begun to suspect all week, that Rosalie wasn't just any dame.

Rosalie was a woman. With heart and brains _and_ looks, a deadly, heartbreaking combination to be sure.

_And fucking demanding, don't forget that, Cullen. _I chuckled, remembering her complaint that I wasn't screwing her fast enough.

I smiled again, recalling when she climbed on top of me and pinned my hands to the bed. She _wanted_ it, and she wasn't afraid to show me exactly how much. No meek, shy glances followed by inexperienced hands and cold fish served up on a platter. Not from my Rosie. She _burned,_ from the inside out; she smoldered. Even when I did things that her furious blush told me she hadn't done before, she let go enough to let me dominate her, which I imagined is a pretty big fucking deal for Rosalie Hale. I had to admit that she had dominated me too. I also had to admit that I _liked_ it. Tonight, we had come together and been equals. I didn't realize it until now, but we had been equals all along, too similar in nature to be anything else. Both strong-willed and used to getting our way.

_She certainly had her way with you. _I smiled and took a long pull on my smoke.

While I was being honest with myself, I might as well admit that I liked _her_. I liked her perfume and her courage. I liked her honesty and her flirty little dresses that drove me absolutely and irrationally wild. But above all of that, I liked having her around. She calmed my temper and anchored me, and I knew I could use more of that in my life.

She played her part at the Gala perfectly and proved she could handle herself with calm grace, which was more than I could say for my own behavior this evening, and I had to admit I was proud of her. She'd gotten some information that might be helpful, but I didn't want to mull it over now and ruin the moment. _Tomorrow,_ I bargained with myself as I snuffed out my cigarette. When I reached toward the ashtray, I disrupted her sleep and she moved to turn her back to me. I lifted the satin sheet off my hip and slid down beside her, her back to my front. With one finger I pulled a few stray curls of her hair off of her neck and around to her back. She sighed contentedly and I brought my lips to her bare shoulder as I wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Goodnight, Rosie," I breathed against her skin before kissing her shoulder softly and laying my head on the satin-covered pillow beside hers. Within minutes, the scent of roses and the radio playing "Stardust" lulled me to sleep.

I woke up the next morning, alone, and it was really fucking bright as the morning sunlight lit up her white bedroom. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around expecting to see Rosalie somewhere, but my gaze was met with nothing but a big, empty, cold bed.

I threw the satin sheet off of me and stood up with every intention of getting dressed, but then I remembered all I had to wear was that stupid fucking tuxedo. I groaned as I started plucking my carelessly disrobed garments off the floor and putting them on. I left the cummerbund on the bed for Rosie. I didn't _need_ it at the moment and I might as well leave it here. I planned to come back later today to return the tux. Once I got home and was able to change into my own clothes.

I went to the nightstand, picking up my pack of Lucky Strikes. I shook one out and lit it while I scratched my head and I looked around, wondering where in the hell I threw my cuff links.

_Only one way to find them,_ I sighed, as I dropped to my knees to begin the search.

I felt like an idiot, crawling around on all fours like a dog, pawing through the thick shag of the white carpet, hoping to find both my little silver Cullen family crest cuff links. I vaguely recalled tossing them somewhere close to the wall, somewhere between pinning her against it and helping her lose that fucking dress. My mouth twisted into a smile at the memory of her hands tangling in my Brylcreem coated hair and her surrender to me, before forcing me to surrender to _her._

_Wouldn't be opposed to an encore of that performance._

"Are you looking for something, Mr. Cullen?" I heard Emily ask from behind me. I was too busy thinking about Rosie to notice that she had entered the room.

I ran my hand through my hair and grinned sheepishly at her. "My cuff links," I admitted.

"And you think they might be on the floor?" she asked innocently as she got down on the carpet beside me and smiled. _Wise girl._ A maid who knows when to turn the other cheek and not ask questions was worth her weight in gold.

"I think they _might_ be," I confessed and winked at her. She stifled a laugh and we resumed the search. Within a few minutes, she had found one by the vanity, and I had found the other near the wall in the corner of the room.

"Maybe the nightstand would be a safer place for these," she hinted as she dropped the one she had found in my hand.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that. Where is Rosalie?"

"She's at breakfast, with Mr. Jasper," she answered.

"Thanks, Emily, you're a doll," I said and smiled genuinely at her before she went back down the stairs.

_A good egg, that one._

I went back to the nightstand to retrieve the rest of my personal effects. I knew I wasn't going to see much of Rosalie today. My detective duties sorely needed my attention, but I knew that she, and last night's events, would be on my mind all day. For some fucking unfathomable reason, I wanted her to think of me, too. I drew out two smokes from my pack and laid them on the nightstand for her. Even if she didn't think of me, my thoughts of her luscious lips wrapped around my Lucky Strike would be enough to keep me..._motivated. _

I left the bedroom to make my way to the breakfast table. As I approached the dining room, I could hear a male voice tinged with a tone of concerned suspicion. I stepped into the room, eyeing the man with honey blond curls and dark blue eyes, who I could only assume was Jasper, as I softly planted a kiss on Rosie's golden crown. I felt her stiffen under my lips and I pulled away, searching her face for any sign of trouble. She looked....uncomfortable, perhaps even annoyed?

"Jasper, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Cullen," she said, and nervously wrung her hands.

"Nice to finally meet you, Jasper, thanks for loaning me the tux," I said and stuck my hand out in friendship. He hesitated for a split second before meeting his palm to mine and shaking vigorously.

"Anytime," he returned warmly, "you're a detective, Rosalie tells me. Must be an interesting line of work," he continued, and took his seat again.

I started to pull out a chair as I answered him. "It can be interesting, if the _clients_ are interesting," I said and glanced at Rosie, but before I could sit down and serve myself a big helping of the scrambled eggs and bacon steaming on the table in front of me, Rosalie spoke up.

"Shall I have Emmett drive you home, Mr. Cullen?" she said coolly, as she served herself another portion of fruit salad.

_Mr. Cullen? What the hell?_

I got the hint that I was being dismissed and pushed the chair back into it's spot under the table. "No thanks, Rosie, I'll take a cab," I said. I had no desire to duke it out in a silent cockfight with Emmett from the backseat of the limo.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged carelessly. "Emily, would you please get Mr. Cullen his coat and call him a cab," she requested, as if it were an everyday occurrence. She cast her eyes down to the table, picking up her coffee and taking a big unladylike gulp.

_Uh-huh...that's what I thought,_ I smirked. I should have realized it would be awkward for her, my meeting Jasper under _these_ circumstances.

Once she pulled the cup away from her lips, I put my finger under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to look me in the eye.

"I'll be seeing you, Rosie. Sooner rather than later," I promised with a murmur. I winked at her and I didn't give her a chance to reply. I simply turned on my heel, stopped to take an apple from the fruit bowl and left.

* * *

KrisBCullen makes us make sense.  
TheHeartofLifeIsGood snuggles with us during the cold nights (although her version of cold is slightly skewed).

**And we'll be seeing **_**you**_**, sooner rather than later (we hope!). Three more chapters to go!**

**Review and we'll send a teaser from chapter 5 your way.**


	5. If I Didn't Care

Chapter 5 - If I Didn't Care

**RPOV**

The January sunlight filtered through the light gauzy window drapes and subsequently, my eyelids. I attempted to flip to the other side of my bed and pull the covers over my head, only to find a barrier in my way. A very large, very manly barrier. My eyes flew open when the events of last night came rushing back to my no longer sleepy mind.

_Edward. Edward Cullen. The man I hired to investigate my father's death... is in my bed. _

He had stayed, which was lovely and surreal all rolled into one. I blinked, wondering if I had imagined everything that happened. Everything we had done. Slowly, he shifted and snuggled down lower into the covers. I knew, without a doubt, that this was very real.

I could hear the distant sounds of china clinking and the voices of people preparing breakfast downstairs. Closer still, I heard a noise by the door and then someone subtly clearing their throat. Gasping, I sat up, grasping the sheet to my chest and looked over. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see my hair puffed out and doing crazy things on top of my head in the mirror that sat on top of my vanity. In the reflection, I could also see Edward behind me barely covered by the sheet and sleeping soundly. There, in the doorway, stood my baby brother.

His eyes took in the scene before him and looking bemused he mouthed, _"Sorry?"_ to me. Yet he continued to stand there, looking anything _but _sorry.

Eyes flashing, I pushed a piece of hair behind my ear that had fallen in my face. I hissed in a low voice, "What are you doing?"

In a low voice, although not quite as venomous as my own, he asked, "I think the better question, dear sister, is what _did_ _you_ _do_? Or, rather who?"

Falling back onto the pillow, I rolled my eyes toward the headboard. Picking my head up slightly, I shooed him away with my hand, holding up a finger indicating I'd be downstairs in a moment. He closed the door silently behind him and I crept out of the bed. Edward rolled toward my vacated spot, snuggling his face into the pillow. I quickly grabbed light slacks and one of my father's sweaters from my dresser, getting dressed in the bathroom. The sweater still held the scent of his cologne, I had taken it from the study after he passed. Rolling up the sleeves, I brushed my hair so that I was presentable. Exiting the bathroom, I saw that Edward was still deep in slumber so I quietly padded out the door.

I found Jasper sitting at the table in the dining room, newspaper in hand and bemused expression on his face. "Well, well, well Rosalie. Look what the cat dragged in."

Despite myself, I smiled at him. "Well, well, well _Jasper," _I mimicked back to him, resting my hands on the high backed chair. "I could say the same about you. How is it that we live in the same house yet I've barely seen you in the past week?"

"I believe it was Longfellow who said something about 'ships that pass in the night.' Although it looks like you were doing more than just _sailing_ last night."

I groaned. "Jasper, please tell me you weren't in the house last night." He grinned and shook his head, confirming that he was not, and for that, I was grateful.

"Is there any way can we just pretend you didn't see that little scene up there?" I asked as walked over to turn on the radio, looking for a bit of background noise. _Perhaps listening to music would effectively end the conversation._ The Andrew Sisters were singing in three part harmony, "Give Me Some Skin, My Friend" and Jasper's grin only got wider.

"You got some _skin_ last night."

I circled back around the table toward my regular spot and when I neared him, I playfully smacked his arm. I muttered, "So juvenile," under my breath but loud enough for him to hear.

"Rosalie, come on. We all need to blow off a little steam every now and then. I, of all people, know this."

"That's wonderful, Jasper. I don't really want to hear about _your_ transgressions. Ever again, in my entire life." Not looking at him, I lied. "It was nothing. _Nothing. _So please, let's stop talking about...it. _Now._" If I had been raised differently, I would have flopped into the chair that he held out for me. Instead, I sat on the edge.

"Okay, I'll let you slide on the private detective currently snoozing away in your bed, for the moment. Tell me, has the man been earning the money you are paying him _to find out about father's death?_" His tone implied that I was paying him for _other_ services. He was lucky he carried the prestigious honor of being my brother or I might have considered kicking _him_ in the family jewels. If I were being honest, no one was safe from the possibility.

Sam brought out the breakfast he had just prepared, with the assistance of Jacob who had returned from visiting his family. "Miss Rosalie? Should we set a place for... Mr. Cullen?" Jasper looked at me with raised eyebrows over the open paper, shaking it out and snapping it, folding it into quarters.

Sighing, I started cutting up the fresh fruit salad that was placed before me. _How should I play this? I wish I had stayed in my room or woken him before coming downstairs. _Jacob still stood by the kitchen door, looking at me, expectantly.

"No Jacob, I don't think that will be necessary. Thank you." He nodded his head once before heading back into the kitchen.

Jasper's blue eyes met mine and once again I remembered his question regarding Daddy's death. We all shared the same eye color, but Jasper and my father's eyes were the same shape. They crinkled in the corners the same way and softened in the same way when they were concerned about me. In fact, Jasper resembled Daddy in more than just his eyes. His build, his stature, they all reflected Daddy. Although I had no memory of her, the portraits and photographs of her placed reverently throughout the house confirmed that I was, indeed, my mother's daughter, in looks if not in personality. My mannerisms were more like my father's, but looking into Jasper's eyes was yet another silent reminder that our father was no longer with us.

"Rosalie? Did Edward Cullen find anything that would lead him to believe something happened with Cuthbert's death?" his eyes probed mine and he leaned toward me, resting his hand on top of mine.

"So far, he hasn't offered anything concrete. We went to the Gala last night and chatted with some of the... people in attendance to see if there was anything else we could find."

Jasper's mood shifted and he was perturbed. "Why would he bring _you_ there to talk to _those_ people? Rosalie, I don't like it. I don't like him putting you in harm's way. It's not appropriate."

Defensively, I opened my mouth to rebut Jasper's accusations of what he believed to be Edward's ill-conceived plan. After all, I would have attended the Gala regardless. However, before I was able to get the first word out, Edward appeared in the dining room, wearing the same tuxedo he wore last night and looking not at all phased by that fact. His hair slightly hung over his eyes and he leaned over, kissing me on the top of my head. I automatically stiffened, not sure what to do in the situation.

What if he didn't see this the same way that I did? Perhaps he considered it a one time thing, not to be repeated. I still wanted to work with him on a professional level but I didn't want him to know the way he affected me, the effect he had on my heart.

"Jasper, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Cullen," I introduced my brother to my lover, wringing my hands nervously. _What is wrong with me? I don't _get_ nervous.  
_  
The men chatted for a few moments while I tuned them out. I needed something to do with my hands, something to busy myself so that I didn't have to meet his eyes. I decided to serve myself some more fruit salad, even though I already had plenty on my plate. The table held quite a spread, far too much food for just Jasper and I, but I didn't feel comfortable asking Edward to join us for the meal.

"Shall I have Emmett drive you home, Mr. Cullen?" I knew it was a cold and detached question but I needed time to work everything over in my head. If he didn't want me, I didn't want him to be under the assumption that last night meant anything more to me than it did to him. I truly hoped that wasn't the case but I didn't know and I couldn't ask, given the situation.

His voice told me that he'd pass on the ride, but I could understand the subtext. He didn't want to be with Emmett, the morning after our tryst. _Understandable._ Emmett would question the detective as to why he was leaving in the morning, rather than last night. I couldn't blame Edward for not wanting to deal with that sort of scrutiny first thing in the morning.

Emily appeared by my side with the coffee carafe, pouring me a large cup. I immediately took it into my hands, ignoring the heat coming off the cup and slightly burned my palms.

"Suit yourself. Emily, would you please get Mr. Cullen his coat and call him a cab?" I shrugged, trying to appear careless and fancy free. I took a big gulp of my coffee, not thinking of the consequences my action would cause. It seared my tongue and throat as the bitter liquid rushed down. That was a mistake.

_Was last night a mistake as well?_

Wincing, I looked down at the table to allow Edward time to show himself to the door. I was surprised to feel a finger graze underneath my chin. He tilted my head up and looked me dead in the eye. I nearly threw myself into his arms but instead I sat there, unmoving.

"I'll be seeing you, Rosie. Sooner rather than later," his eyes shone and he winked at me before walking toward the front foyer. On his way, he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it. I sat there, momentarily stunned.

Jasper whistled and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet out in front of him. "I have to say, Sis, that sure doesn't look like 'nothing' to me."

I made a face but didn't answer him.

We sat in silence, I mulling things over in my head, while he read the paper. After excusing myself, I returned to my room. My unmade bed with two indentations on the pillows was yet another stark reminder of what had happened between Edward and myself. I walked to my vanity, intent on picking up the cosmetics that had tumbled to the floor the night before. A knowing smile swept across my face as I thought about how he had propped me up, ravishing my body with his mouth. I found the bottles had all been neatly lined in front of the mirror. _Probably Emily. _She was so good to me.

I heard her footsteps approaching and heard her moving outside of my room. She knocked softly and when I acknowledged her, she peeked her head in.

"Miss Rosalie? Are you ready for me to make up your bed?"

"No, Emily. Not yet, thank you." I wasn't ready for the reminder to disappear just yet. Although from his parting words, Edward was planning on seeing me quite soon. I would not mind that at all.

I sat on the side of the bed where he slept. Looking at my nightstand, I saw that he had left two cigarettes resting where the pack had been. I couldn't help but smile at the random thoughtfulness. Most men would have plucked a flower from the vase in the hallway, perhaps left a note with it resting on the pillow. It had already been established that Edward was _not_ like any other man I'd come across. I took one of the cigarettes and put it between my lips, finding the book of matches I had in the drawer of the stand.

With a few short sentences this morning and two cigarettes on my nightstand, his character was firmly established in my mind. Edward Cullen was one of the good guys. A genuinely good and caring man had been in my bed. Leaning back on the bed where his body had laid just a short time ago, I smoked my cigarette and smiled.

**EPOV**

When I got home, I stripped off that damn penguin suit as fast as fucking possible and got right into a hot shower. Rose's perfume lingered on my skin, and I almost kicked myself when I realized I'd be washing the scent of her off of me. What I was anxious to wash off was all that Brylcreem shit. While I scrubbed my head with shampoo, I pushed away my thoughts of Rosalie and forced myself to buck up and start doing my job. I turned my attention to the amount of information I had gathered over the week, which, in all honesty, was pathetic. The few leads I did have were vague and not fitting together, but I knew Rosalie felt strongly that something _had_ happened, so I would keep chipping away until I found the piece I was missing.

The only information I did have to work with was a threatening letter I found in dead guy's desk, and a whole lot of people that were shocked that dead guy was dead. Slim pickin's.

The staff at the mansion all said they had been treated well by Mr. Hale, and that he was well respected by everyone from Sam to Emmett. Not one of them did I suspect of lying to me, and I was damn good at reading people. His employees at the La Bella offices were no different, going on and on about what a generous and kind man he was. How he treated everyone as an equal and how they are truly saddened by his passing. They asked if I could please pass along their condolences to Miss Hale, and to be sure and tell her that they are all behind her as the new CEO. I nodded yes and promised, but grew more pissed that I wasn't getting anything I could use.

Yesterday, before the Gala, I had gone to the country club and talked to his tennis and golf buddies, who were all very helpful and obliging. His golf cronies kept insisting they were shocked at the news that a heart attack was to blame. He was in excellent health, never missed a round of eighteen holes. Mr. Hale always insisted on carrying his own clubs, leaving his caddy to rake bunkers, repair divots and forecaddy his drives and blind shots. He tipped the same regardless, so even the caddies spoke will of him.

So really I only had one clue...the threatening letter I had found in Mr. Hale's desk. It didn't make sense to me that it was intended for Mr. Hale. He had enough resources to come up with cash at a moment's notice, no matter how large the sum. Why would he let a situation get out of control enough to warrant getting a warning in the first place? Besides, Stevie's uncouth offer to Rosalie to bump off the killer indicated that at least he didn't know why Hale was dead, or who was responsible. Then again, Stevie Torrino wasn't the only mob boss in Chi-town.

So where did the letter come from? It had to belong to someone else. Someone who needed help and had come to Mr. Hale perhaps? Someone who was refused that help? That would at least give me a motive, which was something I really fucking needed at this point in the case.

I was getting desperate for answers. If something didn't pan out soon, I was going to have to call my father and interview him about his connection to the Hale family.

I pushed the thought away as I finished washing up and turned off the water, the warm droplets rolling off of me and onto the white porcelain of the footed tub. I pulled a thick blue towel off the nearby rack and quickly patted myself dry before stepping out of the tub and wrapping around my waist.

After I brushed my teeth, went in search of my smokes and lit one as I dressed in my grey flannel suit. I had to go out, to the place where I did my best thinking. Once I was dressed, I put my Colt in the holster under my suit jacket and shrugged into my black wool overcoat. I swiped my hat, smokes and flask off the desk and headed to the dive that had the best Chinese food in town, Hwang's.

Hwang greeted me like an old friend, or his best customer, when I walked in his tiny, greasy, green wallpapered restaurant. I moved to my usual table by the kitchen and sat down. "Ahhh...Mr. Cullen, sesame chicken today?" Hwang guessed when he came to take my order and pour me a cup of coffee. Not that he needed to guess or take my order, I always had the same thing, twice a week.

"And a side of hot and sour soup, Hwang, thanks," I added before he scurried into the kitchen.

The radio was playing "If I Didn't Care" as I pulled out my flask and took a swig, then reached for my smokes. I slowly pulled one from the pack and brought it to my lips while I imagined Rosie smoking the cigarettes I left for her. I envisioned her ruby red lips pulling gently as she inhaled, and parting softly as she exhaled. I hoped her bullshit this morning was just an act for Jasper's sake. I realized with surprise that I'd be more than a little disappointed if last night had ruined whatever it was we had between us, and that _really _fucking scared me. It was too late to head for shore now, I was in too deep, and if I didn't keep paddling towards her, something told me I'd drown.

_Getting fucking soft, Cullen, knew all along you'd never make it out of this case in one piece. _

Sometimes I wished I could tell myself to shut the hell up. I was grateful when Hwang brought my meal and I didn't have to think anymore. At least the food and my hunger took my mind off Rosie...for the time being. Again I forced my attention back to the case. Unfortunately, after wolfing down my serving of the best sesame chicken in Chicago, smoking a half my pack of Lucky's, and wasting an hour scrutinizing every possibility of the Hale case from every possible angle, I still wasn't any closer to the answer.

_You're losing your touch Cullen. Time to make that fucking phone call._

I tried to procrastinate a little longer and played with the fortune cookie Hwang had brought with my food. I never ate them; I hated the taste of the cookie. Breaking open the cookie's shell, I pulled out the little piece of paper and squinted to read the tiny red writing.

"_A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Lao Tzu"_

_Fuck. _

I hung my head in defeat as I scooted my chair away from the table and stood dejectedly. I pursed my lips and glanced over at the payphone, which, of course, no one was fucking using.

_Damn my shitty luck._

My feet dragged as I trudged over to the phone hanging on the wall by the ladies bathroom. I plucked the receiver off the hook and positioned it between my ear and my shoulder. Plunging my right hand into the pocket of my coat, I searched for the nickel I knew I'd dropped in there yesterday after buying smokes. My hand didn't feel the cold metal of a nickel however. Instead, it felt the crumple of paper.

I pulled two small slips of paper from my pocket and examined them carefully. As I read the receipts I held in my hands, my mouth went dry and my eyes widened in shock. I grabbed the receiver off my shoulder and thrust it back down on the hook. I turned and strode back to my table, carelessly tossing some bills down from my wallet to cover my food, and then sprinted towards the door.

"See ya in a few days, Hwang, thanks!" I shouted as I opened the door and ran out to the sidewalk, nearly knocking over a old woman loaded down with groceries. "Sorry ma'am," I apologized and tipped my hat before running to the curb of the street. Of course it took me forever to hail a goddamn taxi. I had to resort to pulling out a five spot and waving it around before an Irish bloke finally pulled over for me. I jumped in his cab and blurted the address from one of the receipts.

"And step on it," I ordered firmly.

"Aye, Sir," he nodded, and stomped on the gas, weaving his way through the traffic as best he could.

I turned to stone in the back of the cold cab as I concentrated on the meaning of this turn of events. Obviously the coat I had on was not mine, but it _looked_ just like mine. _There had to have been a mix up with the coat check at the Gala_, I realized. I must have been so caught up in Rosalie that I didn't notice last night. I looked down at the black coat buttons and examined them. They were smooth and rounded along the edge. The buttons on my coat had a pattern stamped into the plastic all the way around, like a dime.

I had no idea who's property the coat, and the receipts I'd found inside the pockets, belonged to. What I did know is the receipts showed the purchase of two items, Foxglove seeds, and a mortar and pestle, on the same date a little over two weeks ago. Items that would be innocent enough, if they _hadn't_ been purchased on the same day. I knew the likelihood that any of this was connected to the Hale case was next to nothing, but it was suspicious in and of itself and worthy of further investigation. If I could find out who had made the purchases, then at least I'd find out who's coat I was wearing, and at the very least, get my coat back.

The cab pulled up in front of the Ace Hardware store on Ontario Street, and I threw more money at the cabbie. "Wait here, I won't be long," I said and got out.

The hardware store was brightly lit and I quickly scanned the sales floor above the rows of stocked shelves for a clerk. To my left, standing behind the counter, I saw a young woman with strawberry blond curls and delicate freckles dappling her cheeks.

_Perfect_.

I smoothed my expression as I strode towards her and tipped my hat. "Pardon me, Miss, but I don't suppose you could help me, could you?" I purred as I leaned an elbow on the counter top and pushed my hat up with one finger, flashing her my best crooked smile.

"Cer..certainly," she stuttered and blinked.

_I'm certain you can as well._

I pulled the receipts from my pocket. "I'm trying to find the owner of this," I said as I pushed the first receipt toward her, she picked it up and began examining it.

"You see, it seems he is also the owner of this coat. This morning, I discovered that there must have been a mix up at the Children's Hospital Gala I attended last night, and this gentleman must have my coat. I don't suppose you were the person to help him with this purchase?"

"I sure did," she offered eagerly. "He came in about 3 weeks ago, and wanted to buy these here Foxglove seeds. I thought he was crazy! Who plants flowers in January?" She said and rolled her eyes. "We didn't have 'em in stock, we don't carry any garden seed in January. But I told him we could order some in for him from the Burpee's catalog."

"Do you happen to remember what he looked like, Tanya?" I murmured as I caught sight of her brass name tag reflecting the hideous ceiling lights.

"Oh sure, he was a real looker. Curly honey blond hair, and blue eyes. About your....build," she confessed and gulped on the last word.

_Holy shit, honey blond curls and blue eyes....?_

"Ever see him before?" I asked, my tension mounting.

"No...never," she admitted, "I'd remember him too."

"Any idea where he might live?" I asked, hoping she'd say something to prove my suspicion was unfounded.

She flushed, "No, I don't. Sorry, Sir," she said regretfully.

"Well thanks anyway, sweetheart," I said and gently pinched her cheek before turning and walking back out to the cab.

As instructed, the cab was still there waiting for me. I ran to it and got in, ordering him to get me to Rosalie's house as fast as fucking possible. As I took out my gun and made sure it was loaded and ready, I realized that if anything happened to her before I could get there, I would be the one the coppers would be looking to pin a murder on, and I'd be guilty as goddamn sin.

* * *

Our extra special love to bohemianbuffalo and the Edwardville community on livejournal.

KrisBCullen is our Keebler elf.  
TheHeartofLifeisGood is amazing, plain and simple. She's working on _her _Rose story right now, based on her one-shot she wrote for the Indies. So good and makes your heart squeeze in all the right places!

**Thanks to those who read and review! We'll send along a teaser for chapter 6 if we hear from you. :)**


	6. I'm a Fool to Want You

Chapter 6 - I'm a Fool to Want You

**RPOV**

That morning, I felt the need to loaf in my bed. Returning to bed and being lazy wasn't a luxury I often allowed myself but it was a nice diversion. Besides, it smelled like him: Bourbon, Lucky Strikes, and Brylcreem. His smell lingered on my pillow and in the sheets long after he was gone. I wanted to think only of him, spend the day dreaming of Edward Cullen: his wicked grin and bedroom eyes.

Eventually, I knew that I needed to get some work done. After a quick shower, I dressed in lounging clothes. Even though I didn't plan on leaving the house, I never knew who might stop by. I knew who I _hoped_ would stop by. I chided myself: _Work, Rosalie. Think about work! _I was scheduled to return to the La Bella offices bright and early Monday morning and I needed to get back into the work mindset.

Pulling out a notepad and pencil, I outlined a few new campaign ideas that had been flitting around in my head. Some were things that Daddy and I had discussed before his passing, and others were new ideas I thought we should explore. As the new head of La Bella, I knew that my every move would be watched, my every decision critiqued. I wanted to come across as strong, confident, and fair, just as my father had been.

The room was too quiet, so I snapped on the radio only to hear "I'm a Fool to Want You." It was the song we had danced to at the Gala. Instead of making me think of him less, I only thought of him _more._ _Was I a fool to want him? Could I get along without him? _I was afraid to answer those questions.

_Snap out of it, Rosalie!_

Attempting to focus, I turned my attention back to the notes I had scribbled on the paper in front of me. Realizing I didn't have the latest information about the newest line in my room, I slipped my feet into my slippers and walked down the hall to my father's study.

The door was partially closed. _Odd._ It was usually either open or closed, but it appeared as though someone might be in there. Slowly swinging it open and not sure of what I would find, I was surprised to see my brother. He was on his knees in front of the bottom desk drawer, surrounded by papers and rifling through the meticulous files our father had kept.

"Jasper?" He startled at the sound of my voice, looking up from his place near the desk to where I stood in the entrance of the room. "Jasper," I repeated. I wasn't exactly sure what I was seeing. He had a wild look in his eyes, somewhat crazed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for... something, Rose." He seemed hesitant to tell me any more information.

Quickly, pieces started falling into place and the room spun around me while I stood there, rooted to one spot. Once more, in the same study where I had completely and truly accepted the fact that my father was dead, I realized who was responsible for his death.

Moving toward the window, I sat down on the settee so that my legs wouldn't give out from underneath me. I had to keep it together. _I hope to God I'm mistaken. _

"That note... it wasn't for Daddy." I said quietly, sadly aware that I wasn't asking a question but stating a fact. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I continued, "You won't find it here. Edward has it."

"Rosalie-" Jasper started over to me, putting his arm out as though he was going to wrap it around my shoulders.

I put my hand out to rebuff him. "No. Don't touch me. Sit down over there and answer me. The note," I said, trying to keep the slightly hysterical rise from my voice, "it wasn't for him. It was for _you._" I needed to hear him say it.

Jasper didn't answer. Instead he rested his hand on his forehead and blew out a long breath. He leaned over the desk and picked up a rock paperweight that he had painted and made for our father when he was in elementary school.

"You know, I made this for Cuthbert when I was in fourth grade. It was a Christmas project. I was so proud that he used it but I always asked why he didn't take it into the office. He said that it was better for the home study." He placed the paperweight back down on the desk as he looked at me. "I was always better at home. He took _you_ out, paraded _you_ around. He would have given you the world if you asked."

"This can't be about jealousy, Jasper."

"_Jealousy?_" he spat the word out at me as though it personally offended him. "It's not about jealousy."

"Then what _is_ it about, Jasper?" I nearly begged him, "Please help me because I can't possibly understand your rationale and Lord knows, I'm really trying to here."

"This is about our father not helping his family, his _son._"

It didn't make sense. This conversation, his animosity toward our father; none of it made sense. "I am not sure what you are insinuating. Daddy would have helped either of us, if we needed it." He shook his head vehemently, repeating the word _no _as I spoke.

"_Daddy_ didn't help me when I needed it." He moved next to me and sat on the settee. I shifted slightly so that I wasn't sitting so close to him.

"I got in a bit over my head with a gambling debt-"

I arched an eyebrow. "If I recall, and I'm certain I know more about this than you think I do, you _often_ get in 'a bit over your head' when it comes to gambling."

Jasper looked at me, emotions warring on his face. Both sadness and anger were evident in his expression. "Well, our father wouldn't assist _me_ this time around. I guess he didn't tell you that, did he, dear sister?" He took a deep breath and his eyes met mine. Once again, I was reminded of our father and the thought now sickened me. "And Rosalie? It was big, I'm talking a lot of money. The people involved weren't taking no for an answer. I was desperate. I had nowhere else to turn and I brought the note to Cuthbert."

I willed my eyes not to squeeze shut. Not to force the angry tears out that I was holding in. Those tears would show a sign of weakness, which I couldn't afford at the moment. Thankfully, my voice did not betray me. "And what did he say?"

"He told me that he'd see what he could do. Dismissed me like I was one of the help."

My heart hurt within my chest and my lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air. Drawing in a sharp breath, I said, "Jasper, I don't believe it. Daddy didn't treat the staff like 'the help,' he treated them like family. I'm sure if you-"

"I don't know when this is going to get through your thick skull, Rosalie, but our father wasn't the martyr you make him out to be. He wasn't perfect; far from it, actually. He was flawed and sometimes I think I was the only one able to see those flaws."

I needed to get away from him. I stood and went to the drink cart, pouring some sort of alcohol with a shaking hand. I couldn't even pay attention to what it was. I just needed the distance between us. Jasper continued with his rant. "I was always second best to you, even though I was his son! The one who would carry on the Hale name. He couldn't get past the fact that Mother passed away after birthing me. So instead, he turned to you for his source of comfort. You were his reason for being. He decided to raise you to run the family business, and he put all his hopes and dreams into your future, not mine."

My mind raced. I wasn't sure what to say in response to his bashing of our father. Instead I stood there, saying nothing. I knew if I spoke, I might fly off the handle and I couldn't risk possibly having the rage he felt for our father directed at me.

"Do you know what it's like to be the failure, right out of the womb? I didn't even stand a chance! He held our mother's death against me. Said that he was through helping me financially. That I could handle it and it would help me build 'character.' What a fucking joke." I tried not to flinch at his harsh words. "The only thing he accomplished by not helping me was put an expiration date on my birth certificate, a date that would be in the very near future instead of a distant one." He dropped his head into both hands, his elbows resting on his knees. I heard his words full of pain but I couldn't bring myself to comfort him.

"He wasn't going to give me the money. He made that quite clear when we last spoke about the issue. So to save myself... to save _my_ life... I had to take his."

His face twisted into a pained mask that I had never seen before on my baby brother, until this day. "I should have guessed that he had altered the will so that everything would be left to you. The final blow to me and it shouldn't have surprised me in the slightest."

"How much, Jasper?" My voice was low.

I couldn't look at him. My blood burned through my body and roared in my ears. I was surprised I could hear his low answer of "Fifteen."

I closed my eyes, the inside of my eyelids were a vivid red.

"Fifteen hundred?"

"Fifteen _thousand._"

I opened my eyes. _Still red. _"Jasper. _Fifteen thousand dollars???_" I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. It did not work. "For the love of all that is holy! How could you do this?" _The money. Our father. All of it._

He stood from the chair with such force that it shoved backward into the wall. I took a step away from him. He was standing in front of me in an instant, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, "Please, Rosalie. How could I _not_ do this? I'm sorry but Cuthbert left me with no other choice."

This wasn't my brother standing before me. This was some enraged man who was obviously not thinking clearly, not thinking at all. I couldn't think of the right words and I was completely torn with what to do. My brain frantically tried to sort things out. I considered just giving him the money, letting him pay his debt and flee. The other part of my brain was screaming to call the police and turn him in. He'd be in jail, but I knew the people he owed and they could probably get to him, even in jail. Either way, I would lose my brother.

_If I were being honest with myself, he was already lost. _

**EPOV**

It was the longest fucking taxi ride of my life. The cabbie deftly wove his way through the busy midday, downtown Chicago traffic as I sat fidgeting and helpless in the backseat. I kept my fists clenched in my lap while my foot impatiently pressed on an imaginary gas pedal on the floor. All the while, my mind raced with the implications of everything I had learned in the last half hour. Obviously the coat mix up hadn't happened at the Gala. Emily must have given me Jasper's coat this morning by mistake.

_Jasper._ Jasper, who had conveniently skipped out on our arrangements to meet. Jasper, who wasn't inheriting a single nickel from the estate. My guess was that note belonged to him. He must have needed cash and gone to Mr. Hale for help, who then refused him. It was the motive I had suspected earlier today, but certainly not from Mr. Hale's own flesh and blood.

I knew the who, and I was pretty firm on the why, now for the how. I was aware of the potentially lethal properties of the toxic Foxglove flower. When I was a teenager, my mother, Esme, had a little black poodle named Embry. He got into mom's flower garden once and ate some of the foxglove roots he'd dug up. That was the last time Embry got in the garden. That was the _last_ time Embry got into _anything_. Mom had the foxglove taken out the very same day. The incident made me curious so I studied up on it. If any part of the plant was infused in alcohol in the proper way, it could kill by inducing cardiac arrest.

_Rosie's going to be devastated. _

My brow wrinkled in pain. How was I going to tell her that her brother, whom I knew was her closest and only remaining relative, was her father's murderer? My heart broke for her and I knew that this would be the hardest fucking day on the job I'd ever be forced to suffer through.

An eternity later, the cab pulled into the driveway of the Hale estate, and I tossed a bill over the seat at the cabbie for the fare. I had the door to the cab open before he came to a stop and jumped out, running to the door. I didn't bother with the bell. I flung the red front door open and saw Emily to my left in the dining room, polishing the big carved mahogany buffet. Her head jerked up in surprise when she heard the door hit the wall as it flew open.

"Emily, where's Rose?"

"Upstairs, in the office with Mr. Jasper," she replied, her brow furrowing with concern and confusion.

I turned and went swiftly up the stairs two at a time, torn between staying calm for Rosie's sake, or beating the crap out of Jasper for the pain he was about to cause her when she learned the truth. Of course the latter wasn't a realistic option...only a _desirable_ one. As I approached the halfway point, I heard the sliding of a chair across the wooden floor. Then the sound of a raised male voice.

I came to the second story landing. The door to the office was open, and through it I saw Jasper. His face was tense with urgency and his strong hands gripped Rosalie's shoulders tightly. But the look on her face told me she already knew the truth. I was beside her instantly and glared at Jasper, my expression black with warning.

"This isn't your business Mr. Cullen," he said tersely, dropping his hands from her shoulders but never breaking his frantic gaze from Rosalie's disbelieving and disappointed blue orbs.

"Being on her payroll makes it my fucking business, _Mr_. Hale," I growled.

He let go of Rosie and chuckled darkly, glaring at me as he leaned toward my ear. "Was last night on or off the clock?" he almost whispered and smirked sarcastically. He pulled away and he took in my expression, which, I'm sure, very plainly said _FUCK YOU_.

My arm started to recoil, my brain automatically calculating the perfect angle for my right hook to inflict the maximum damage, but just as my spring loaded arm was about to release, I saw Rosalie's small and delicate fist, replete with flaming red fingernails, connect squarely with Jasper's nose.

I stared at her in astonished respect for a split second before I saw, out of my peripheral vision, Jasper's open hand raised towards Rosalie. My arm, still loaded in mid air, let loose and my right hook didn't fail me, landing near his eye. He surprised me with his quick recovery and I took an upper cut to the mouth; I could taste the blood on my tongue as my upper lip split. I advanced on him and threw a jab, which he dodged by backing up until he bumped into the drink cart next to the settee. Two brandy snifters fell to the floor, shattering on impact. He swung a left hook which I barely dodged by ducking just in time. I stepped toward him as he shifted his position and backed up toward the window and the settee. He chanced a look behind him and I saw my opportunity. I drove my fist into his already swollen nose again, landing my blow in the same place Rosalie had landed hers. He fell backwards, onto an end table next to the settee, which broke apart under him as he fell to the floor.

My eyes flew to Rosie, who was a trembling mixture of shocked anger and broken-hearted disappointment. I pulled her to me just as she started to lose it.

"It's okay, baby doll. I'm here and I won't let you go," I cooed softly, kissing her forehead as her tears started to flow. I felt her hand reach into my pocket and pull out my handkerchief. I could hear people coming up the stairs, alerted by the sounds of glass shattering and furniture breaking. Emily and Sam appeared at the doorway and their expressions turned to confusion at the sight of Jasper sprawled out unconscious on the floor.

"Emily, would you please call Jacob up here? I'd like both he and Sam here when Jasper comes around," I requested softly. Emily nodded and quickly departed the room with purpose. Sam moved toward Jasper and before I knew it, Jacob was there. Between them, they managed to get Jasper off of the floor and onto the settee. I felt the cloth of my suit growing damp with Rose's tears, but she hadn't made a peep yet. I pulled her closer to me, trying to press some of my strength into her. She just clutched me around the waist, and dabbed at her cheeks in fucking _heartbreaking_ silence.

"Rosie, honey, do you want me to call the police?" I whispered to her and winced on the last word. I felt her press her face harder into my chest before she let out a single sob and nodded her head yes.

I reluctantly moved closer to the desk, Rosalie still enveloped in my arms, to make the phone call that would shatter that last little corners of her heart.

The receiver felt as heavy as an anvil when I lifted it to my ear. "Operator, the police please," I said regretfully.

Jasper started to come to. Once he realized he'd lost our little prizefight, his shoulders slumped and his eyes clouded over with regret. He stood to move toward Rose and me. Jacob and Sam stayed two paces behind him, but I could tell from Jasper's expression his intentions were harmless. His simply stared remorsefully at Rosalie.

"Rose, I'm so sorry," he began softly.

"Jasper, I can't do this right now," she said through hitched sobs and pulled away from me to look at him. "I'm going to need a little time," she whispered as her eyes welled up with more tears. "Edward, can you talk to the police please? If they need to talk to me, I'll be in my room," she said.

"Of course Rosie," I replied. She gave me a relieved, albeit weak, smile and squared her shoulders for a brief second before she strode from the room. _So damn brave._

The coppers showed up not long after. Jasper was cooperative and explained how he had prepared the foxglove seed and brandy cocktail for dear old dad. Within ten minutes, they had a full confession. I handed over the receipts to the cops and took off Jasper's coat; I had still been wearing the most damning piece of evidence, since I'd rushed in here with such urgency. They didn't handcuff him; they just escorted him down the stairs and out to the waiting patrol car to take him down to the local precinct. He wasn't putting up a fight, and for Rose's sake, I was relieved he seemed to accept her decision to turn him in without resentment. That would make this easier for Rose.

Once Jasper was en route to jail and the cops had cleared out of the house, I went to Rose's room. I expected to find her sprawled out on her bed, face down in the satin covered pillows, crying her little heart out. I should have known better.

She stood in front of her bedroom windows, gazing blankly out at the front lawn. "Rosie, you alright?" I asked lamely, know that of course she wasn't fucking alright, but what else could I have said?

She kept her back to me, kept her gaze fixed on the grey January sky. "I'm all alone now," she whispered in a flat emotionless monotone that scared the hell out of me.

"You're not alone. I promised you, I won't let go," I soothed and moved toward her. I placed my right hand on her shoulder and started to draw her to me.

She slipped away from my touch and went to the doorway of the bedroom. "I suppose you would like your payment now, Edward?" she said and crossed the hall to the office. I followed her and tried really fucking hard not to let her see how much her words and actions stung me.

_Just pick up the pieces of your heart and get the hell out Cullen. You always knew this is how it would end._

"Now or later. It doesn't matter," I said quietly and followed her to the desk where she pulled out Mr. Hale's check register. She'd already paid me half my fee earlier in the week. I watched her shaking hand scribble out a check for another quarter of my fee.

"I'll get you the rest in a few days, if that is agreeable? Financially this is going to be a nightmare, and I need to talk to my accountant," she said more to herself than to me before continuing, "And the press is going to be hounding me when the news about Jasper breaks. It might be better for me to stay out of the public eye for a little while," she said and looked at me blankly.

I examined her expression carefully. I knew her exquisite face well, and it dawned on me that her cold and distant manner was because she was in complete shock. It certainly was understandable, after what she had been through today. I wanted to comfort her, I wanted to hold her and let her ruin my suit as she cried all over it. I wanted _her._

If she said she needed time, then I would wait. I brought my hand to her face, cupping her cheek while I whispered in her other ear. "Sure, I'll see you in a few days, doll," and kissed her forehead before taking the check from her hand and leaving the room.

Emily caught me at the door with _my_ coat. I took it from her and shrugged into it. "Promise me, Emily, that you'll keep an eye on Rose? That you'll let me know if she needs anything?" I requested anxiously.

"Of course, Mr. Cullen, I'll call you first thing," she agreed solemnly.

"Thanks," I smiled gratefully, "and it's just Edward, Emily, none of that Mr. bullshit. I work for these people just like you do," I said and winked at her. She cracked a weak smile and offered to call me a cab. Soon enough, I was in the cab and pulling away from the Hale estate. My chest grew heavy at the thought of going home to my cold, dingy apartment without knowing for sure if I'd see her again. Not knowing when I'd see her blue eyes light up or smell her roses her again.

_You're in for a few long fucking days, Cullen._

_

* * *

_We think KrisBCullen is wicked awesome.  
Mr. TheHeartofLifeIsGood, thank you for sharing your wife with us. We are never giving her back.

**Ah yes, the big reveal. LightStarDusting had a very difficult time having Jasper be the 'bad guy.' So, who did you think it was? We'd love to hear!**

**Final chapter scheduled to post on Saturday, December 19****th****. TheHeartofLifeIsGood's birthday!**


	7. Honeysuckle Rose

A/N - If you'd like to see pictures of inspiration for Rose's dresses/the estate PM us and we'll send along links.

Chapter 7 - Honeysuckle Rose

**RPOV**

Twelve days.

It had been exactly twelve days since my everything had occurred at the estate.

Twelve days since my brother had gone to jail.

Twelve days since I'd last seen Edward Cullen.

In the past twelve days, I had often questioned myself and my decision to hire Edward in the first place. I found out something that maybe I was better off not knowing. Instead of losing one member of my family, I had lost two.

_Was knowing what had happened worth it?_ It was, but sometimes I had a hard time convincing myself.

The Cadillac Fleetwood smoothly glided down the road with the windows rolled down, headed toward Englewood. Toward Edward. A warm breeze danced through the car, the smell of the exhaust from other cars wafted through. Unseasonably warm February days were rare in Chicago. However, Mother Nature graced us and people were taking full advantage. Laughter and happy shrieks from children on a nearby playground made me smile when we had stopped at a corner. The outside noise mingled with "A Good Man Is Hard to Find," which played softly on the radio. Music was a welcome change from the constant news reports regarding my family and La Bella. I sighed and took in everything. The warmer weather made me feel warmer inside as well. Almost as though I was thawing. It was a welcome change.

The newspapers and radio were flooded with the events regarding my father's death and Jasper's involvement. Edward had been hailed a hero. From what I could tell, he wasn't commenting to anyone regarding the case. With the negative press, the positive came as well. La Bella sales hit an all time high and we had been diligently working to push the newest ad campaign, "A Matter of Face." Work was keeping me busy and offered me a distraction from thinking about my family mess. _Not from him, though._

Emmett was able to contact Stevie through some mutual acquaintances and together we met him at Lou Mitchell's. I took Emmett up on his offer to join me during _that _meeting. The purpose was to give him the money that Jasper owed. I was fairly certain that it wasn't Stevie who was looking for the money; if it were, he probably would have said something the night of the Gala. However, I was fairly certain that he had ways of finding out and passing it along to the _right_ person. I asked him to make sure Jasper's name was clear. He seemed to know something, though, because he acted like he understood that it was a matter of life and death for Jasper. He assured me that he wouldn't have Jasper "welshing" on a bet. While Emmett went to get the car, Stevie pinched my cheek and then my backside and told me to consider it done.

I'd gone to visit Jasper soon after the police took him away from the estate and he had apologized once again to me. We met at the county jail and we sat together, in a cold room with hard chairs. He said he had never intended on hurting me the way that he did; that he hadn't been thinking clearly. I had told him that what hurt more than anything was that he felt there was no other option, no other way to deal with things than the way he did. I wished he had come and talked to me a month ago. We'd all be in quite a different position. His hands were joined together with the handcuffs yet when he reached out for mine, I could not deny him. Holding my hands in his, he begged for my forgiveness. Daddy had always told me it was important to forgive and forget. That's where he and I disagreed. I forgave Jasper. I could not forget. I _would not _forget.

My thoughts shifted back to Edward as I took my compact out of my purse and looked at my face in the mirror, opting to leave the powder puff in it's place. I had left La Bella a bit early so I could make it to the bank to get the rest of his payment. With all of the media surrounding Daddy's death and Jasper's arrest, I figured it was best to solely focus on work directly after everything had happened. I had Jacob place a call to Edward, telling him that I would be by today with the remainder of his money but he hadn't answered the phone. I was hoping that I would catch him. After all that happened at the estate, I knew I had been standoffish and cold to him the last time I saw him. Looking back at that day, I behaved appallingly toward him. I never had the chance to apologize. We had left on a bad note and it was eating me alive.

I wondered if he would be happy to see me. I wondered if the spark would still be there. I wondered if he'd want what I wanted._ I wonder if he wants me the way that I want him. _

As he had done nearly two weeks ago, Emmett pulled the car to a stop in front of Edward's building. He moved to get out of the car. I looked at the rear view mirror that was on a stand, close to his head and saw him watching me. "Don't bother, Emmett. I'm _fine_ and it's not necessary." He looked slightly concerned but didn't move from his spot in the front seat. Making a last minute decision, I continued, "Please feel free to head home. I'll call if I need you or I'll get a cab." He didn't turn in his seat but I could tell he was mulling it over, running his hand over the back of his neck as he often did while he thought.

He acquiesced, "I'll watch from here to make sure you get in safely. Don't hesitate to call if you need me."

"Thank you, Emmett. For everything." He had been my rock throughout the past few weeks. The entire staff had taken care of me. Not coddling, as it wasn't in my nature to be coddled. Just gentle reminders to eat, sitting with me and not letting me wallow. While I had been orphaned, I wasn't truly alone.

I was hoping that there was one more person willing to take me on, even after I had treated him so poorly twelve days ago.

I quickly hurried up the steps, running my hand along the railing as I did. From my vantage point on the steps, I could see the window to his apartment was open wide and I heard the radio announcer babbling away, most probably about my family. Not wasting any time, I hurried into Edward's building, anxious to see him. I was there under the pretense of delivering the rest of his payment for his detective services, but I truly hoped this meeting would bring so much more.

Standing at his door, I hesitated slightly before announcing my arrival. My hands flitted to my hair and they smoothed it, patting at the barrel rolls I had painstakingly pinned in my hair that morning. I wanted to make sure everything was just so, despite him telling me that he liked my natural appearance. I had put on the single strand of white pearls that Daddy had given me for my sixteenth birthday and I gently ran a finger over them, thinking once more of my dear father. Taking a deep breath, I firmly knocked on the door.

"Door's open," I heard him grumble on the other side.

_Showtime, Rosalie._

I had thought the same thing when we first met at the diner. Only I was quite aware that this wasn't a show. I was ready to put my feelings on the line and could only pray that I wouldn't get hurt once more. I wasn't used to feeling this vulnerable and I had already been hurt enough the last month.

I swung the door open slowly, my hand wrapped around the edge of the door. My eyes found him easily in the small room, sitting at his desk and glaring at the radio. I couldn't help but wonder what the radio had done to offend him. His arm stopped mid-reach toward the Victrola as though he was about to turn it off before I had interrupted. His eyes met mine. I was surprised to see the raw emotion they held for in the past he had always been so quick to keep the wall between us. Quickly, they raked over my body and his outstretched hand retreated from the radio and raked through his hair. He had a paper open in front of him on the desk and I could see a copy of my face in black and white, peering up at him from the pages. The stubble on his face gave away the fact that he hadn't shaved in a few days. An unlit cigarette rested behind his ear and there was an overflowing ashtray that rested next to the newspaper. The place was a bit of a mess. _He_ was a bit of a mess.

Despite that, he looked _good _to me.

"Rosie," he breathed out. With that one word, I knew. _Rosie. He wants me as much as I want him._ If he didn't he surely would have used _Rosalie _or _Miss Hale._

"Hello, Edward," I purred in greeting, unable to contain the smile that flitted across my lips. I remembered his comment at the Gala regarding my coat and moved to take off the swing coat that covered my wrap dress. His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed, his jaw clenching. _The man is a detective for Pete's sake, of course he knows exactly what I'm doing. _

After depositing my coat on the screen over Jasper's tuxedo, I stood in front of the door. I ran my hand along the wood of the door and quickly turned the lock behind my back. I shivered slightly, although it was not at all cold in his apartment. In fact, his gaze was hot and burning. I'm fairly certain I was returning a similar look.

"We never really got a chance to talk after the night of the Gala," I moved in front of his desk and rested my hands on top of it, leaning toward where he was sitting. I couldn't help but notice his eyes roam down toward the v-neck of my dress and slowly back up to my face.

"No, we didn't. You seemed a bit preoccupied the following morning, and then there was..." he trailed off, looking uncertain and not at all like himself. His hand moved back and forth between us, "everything else. I thought you wanted to be left alone_."_

"I appreciate the sentiment but I've been alone for too long. I'm done pussyfooting-" The uncertain look was gone as I saw him smirk at my word choice. Moving to his side of the desk, I lightly slapped his arm, letting my hand rest on it, not wanting to stop touching him. "Ugh, _men!_" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes. I amended my statement, "I'm done _tiptoeing _around this. I know the case is over, but I'm not ready to give you up. I was hoping that maybe..."

He leaned back on the rolling chair and pulled at the hand that had been on his arm and caught my waist with the other, pulling me so I sat sideways on his lap. He brought his mouth close to my ear, his warm breath sweeping around it, and answered with the words I was longing to hear him say once more, "I've already told you Rosie, I'm not letting you go."

I let out the air I didn't realize I was holding and beamed at him. He continued to hold me on his lap, surrounding me with his arms. _It felt like home._

"How's everything at the estate? Have they been taking care of you? Given you everything that you need?"

"Not everything..." I let the thought linger. I could feel his arousal under me.

Looking at his desk, I saw the check I had written him twelve days prior, propped up under the lamp. Not moving from his lap, my free hand reached out and plucked it from the desk. It was then that I saw another check had been stacked behind it, which fluttered to the floor. It was the payment I had written almost two weeks earlier.

"You didn't cash them?" I asked, trying to sound stern yet failing as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"No and I probably won't." He brought his hand to my hair and stroked it. My nose moved closer to his neck and I breathed in his scent.

I pressed the issue. "You _should _cash them. Deposit the payments. Something. I brought the rest with me, cash this time."

"Keep it," he said softly, his fingers gliding through strands of my hair.

"No, I don't think I can do that Edward. You figured it out, solved the case. Even though it wasn't something I wanted to hear, it was something that I needed to hear."

The hand that was stroking my hair moved down my arm and around my side. He held me tighter. I no longer wanted to talk about the money or the case.

"I missed you, Edward," I whispered, effectively changing the subject and getting to the true reason why I was there with him. I knew it was blunt but I was done being coy. Done playing the games. I needed him to know.

"It was getting harder to stay away," he admitted as he brushed his nose against my throat.

I started to say something but his lips caught mine and I forgot about talking, pressing my lips to his. He pulled back just slightly and I felt his lips smiling against mine.

_He wants me._

And I needed to have him.

**EPOV**

It had been twelve days.

Twelve fucking _excruciating_ days.

I wasn't counting, I didn't need to. That bastard reporter on the radio, Randall Roberts, made a point of keeping track of it for me, just like he was doing right now as he described where she had gone for lunch today and what time she'd left her offices downtown. I could have turned off the Victrola, but that was like convincing a raging alcoholic to dump his 100 year old scotch down the drain. To make matters worse, the Tribune had her picture plastered all over the front page for the last ten days, using her beauty to sell papers, and break my fucking heart some more.

Twelve days had forced me to face facts, and the fact was; I had it _bad_. Worse than I'd ever thought was possible, and _way _fucking worse than I ever wanted to admit.

There were other reminders of her lying around my apartment too. Jasper's freshly dry cleaned tux hung from the silk screen, a black and white memento of the Gala, and the dancing....and how she'd had her complete fucking way with me. Two checks for my detective services sat propped up against the base of the lamp on my desk, her handwriting staring at me. I just couldn't bring myself to cash them. I almost wished she hadn't hired me at all. Maybe not knowing the truth would have been better for her, and not meeting her at all might have been better for me.

_Maybe you should cash 'em, Cullen. Move to San Fran like you wanted to. Get the hell out of Chicago._

I sat at my desk in my black slacks and undershirt, my white shirt open and un-tucked with sleeves rolled up, and put out the cigarette I'd forgotten I was smoking. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the half open blinds, slicing the smoke from my cigarette into slowly swirling patterns. Today's edition of the Tribune was lying before me and her eyes, so dull and lifeless in grey newsprint, bore into mine. Randall Roberts finally gave it a rest and played some music but I groaned when I recognized the song, "Honeysuckle Rose." That damn song may as well have been written for Rosie, and it certainly wouldn't help me stop fucking thinking about her. Just as I was about to stand and turn off the radio, I heard a firm knock.

"Door's open," I called, and the door slowly swung into the room, led by a little hand with fuck-me-red fingernails.

And there she was.

_My Rosie. _

"Hello, Edward," she murmured as she let herself in, took off her coat and locked the door behind her. She was wearing another one of her flirty fucking dresses, seductively black and tight with little gathers and buttons along one hip. A low cut v-neck revealed her creamy neck and chest, perfectly off set by a strand of shimmering white pearls encircling her throat. My eyes narrowed._ Too powerful for her own good._

"We never really got a chance to talk after the night of the Gala," she said.

"No, we didn't. You seemed a bit preoccupied the following morning, and then there was..." I trailed off, waving my hand between us awkwardly, "everything else. I thought you wanted to be left alone_."_

"I appreciate the sentiment but I've been alone for too long. I'm done pussyfooting-" I smirked uncontrollably at hearing the word _pussy_ cross her perfect lips. She slapped me playfully before continuing, "Ugh, _men!_ I'm done _tiptoeing _around this. I know the case is over, but I'm not ready to give you up. I was hoping that maybe..."

My anxiety over the last twelve days evaporated as she smiled timidly at me. You can bet your ass I was scared, but I'd already risked it all and it was too late to go back. I reached up and caught the hand that had just slapped my shoulder and leaned back in my chair, pulling her down onto my lap.

"I've already told you Rosie, I'm not letting you go," I murmured near her ear and her face lit up with a relieved smile. "How's everything at the estate? Have they been taking care of you? Given you everything that you need?" I asked.

"Not everything..." she replied, and it was my turn to smile like a moron. She looked over my desk and saw her un-cashed checks and snatched one up, the other fell from the desk to the floor.

"You didn't cash them?" she asked and rested her her head on my shoulder. Her roses enveloped me. I'd missed that _so _fucking much.

"No, and I probably won't," I said honestly and played with her hair.

"You _should _cash them. Deposit the payments. Something. I brought the rest with me, cash this time."

"Keep it."

"No, I don't think I can do that Edward. You figured it out, solved the case. Even though it wasn't something I wanted to hear, it was something that I needed to hear," she insisted, which I ignored while I pulled her closer.

"I missed you, Edward," she confessed in a whisper a moment later.

"It was getting harder to stay away," I confessed in return and brought my nose against her throat to breathe in her perfume then moved my mouth to hers, kissing her softly. I felt her soften against me and I smiled, thrilled that I had that effect on her. She ran her hand through my hair and plucked out the cigarette I'd forgotten I had behind my ear, tossing it on the desk. The radio changed songs, and my favorite Billie ballad, "I'll Be Seeing You", filled the apartment. The song's blue, longing melancholy amplified our own want, if that was fucking possible. I stopped kissing her and whispered against her lips, "Dance with me, Rose?"

She didn't speak, she just nodded her forehead against mine, her eyes still shut from the kiss. She took a deep breath and stood, trailing her hand from my right shoulder, down my arm and to my hand. I caught her hand and stood, then brought her hand to my lips, kissing the top of it softly. She smiled over her shoulder, her eyes downcast as she turned to face me. He gaze floated slowly up my frame, lingering for a moment on my jaw before her hooded eyes met mine.

_The feeling's mutual, Rosie._

I stepped into her, drawing her to me and resting my cheek against hers as I started to slowly sway us in rhythm with the music. Her roses permeated the air, and I drank her in like the fucking raging alcoholic with his coveted scotch.

S_o much better than bourbon_.

We held on to each other tightly as we slowly danced around my tiny one room apartment, and she seemed to melt into me as much as I lost myself in her. "Mmmm, Edward," I heard her whisper into my ear. I pulled my face away to look at her. I brought her to a stop and plucked my handkerchief from my pocket. Carefully, gently, I wiped all her red lipstick away. When I could see the pure pink of her soft lips, I tossed the handkerchief on the desk.

_There's MY Rosie._

I took her face in both my hands, my fingertips dancing across her delicate cheekbones as if they were made of the finest porcelain, and brought my mouth to hers. Her lips molded themselves to mine in absolute breathless fucking perfection, and I kissed them both, tracing the outline of each with the tip of my tongue. Her head tilted back more, her body softening in my hands. I kept one hand on her cheek, the other I slid down her neck, across her chest down to her waist and then around, pulling her as close to me as possible. I brought my cheek back to hers and resumed the dance steps.

"Edward, how is this going to work? I don't know how much of myself I can give you right now," she said with quiet regret.

"I don't know how much I can give you either, Rosie. What do you say we just see how it all plays out?" I said and squeezed her to me, not willing to think about the fucking future just then.

"Edward...I-" she began but I cut her off.

"Why don't we stop talking, Rosalie?" I asked, throwing her words from the night of the Gala back at her. She smirked and began to argue but I silenced her with a finger on her lips. "Still so fucking demanding," I said teasingly. Her eyes flashed but I didn't give her a chance to say anymore. I hardly gave her a chance to take a breath as I attempted to kiss all coherent thought straight out of her pretty little head.

She didn't argue with me anymore as her hands moved to my hair and pulled. _Goddamn I loved that. _We kept swaying, but no longer in time with the music, no longer able to pay attention to anything beyond each other. I kissed her slowly, reverently, as I spun her around a few times and led her back to the desk. I leaned back against it, and with my right hand pulled open the top left drawer. Plunging my hand in, I blindly searched for the little square paper envelope that held a condom. Once found, I dropped it on the desk and closed the drawer, then brought my hand up and ran it up the back of her neck and through her hair. My left hand reached for her right knee and the hem of her dress. I fondled the fabric teasingly before hitching the hem up, and pulling the skirt of her dress up to her hip. She moaned into my mouth, clutching desperately at the collar of my shirt with both hands, and brought her right knee up to rest on top of the desk. I felt her heat radiating off of her, lapping teasingly at me as she ground her hips against me.

My knees went fucking weak. I trailed my hand from her hip, slowly down her thigh, stopping briefly to playfully snap the elastic strap of her garter, down over her stocking covered knee and ankle. My hand came to rest on the heel of her shoe, encircling it with my thumb and finger. I smiled against her lips and gave her heel a swift jerk, forcing her pelvis closer to my swollen, expectant cock. She hissed in shocked pleasure, evidenced by the sinful smirk that danced across her lips as her head fell slowly back. I released her shoe and she slowly slid her foot back to the floor, shifting her position so that her legs were between my spread ones, her hips brushing against the inside of my legs. Her hands slid with assured purpose to my waist and the bright silver buckle of my belt. She kissed me deeply, her tongue tickling the roof of my mouth before catching my lower lip in her teeth and grazing it carefully as she pulled away.

_That's my little vixen._

Her fingers worked furiously to unfasten my belt buckle. With a tug she cinched it tighter, giving her enough slack to unlatch the buckle. She pulled the belt from it's confining loops slowly, and once freed, swung it around my back, catching it in her other hand and pulling me to her with a fierce jerk. Her eyes went to my jaw that clenched as I grunted, and she bit her lip in delicious anticipation.

She dropped the belt onto the desk with a thud.

She unbuttoned my pants.

She slid down my zipper.

She pulled up my rolling chair and made herself perfectly fucking comfortable before pulling my pants off my hips. Her eager hand found the opening of my boxers and I growled when I felt her hot little fingers wrap around me, pulling me out and freeing me from the confining cotton.

Then she did something I didn't really expect her to do, but had been secretly fucking _wanting_ her to. She tentatively wrapped her perfect pink lips around me and plunged my cock into her warm, wet mouth.

"_Fuck_ Rosalie..." I watched her greedily, while my brow furrowed in tortured expectation.

As she pulled up, her cheeks puckered from the gentle suction I could feel massaging all around me, her tongue started doing things I'd never imagined before as she came up my shaft. When she got to the tip, she swept her tongue all the way around it once before plunging me even deeper into her mouth the second time, performing her little tongue acrobatics all the way down too.

_Holy fucking shit._

My fingers dug into the wooden edge of my desk, and on the next pass up she dragged her teeth gently up my length. Her hand gripped my base and began to stroke back and forth, matching the faster pace her mouth was beginning to set.

"Rosalie..." I murmured again, my desire to have her growing uncontrollably by the second, egged on by each tortuous, quickening pass of her mouth. Back and forth, with the tongue maneuvers and the suction and the fucking teeth. After a few passes she started moaning softly, making me vibrate in her mouth, and that was fucking _it._ My eyes rolled back, my mind consumed by the singular thought of having her. _RIGHT. FUCKING._ _NOW._

I pulled her up off of me and on to her feet as I kissed her so hard I felt her knees give out on her. I crushed her to me, wrapping both my arms around her waist while her arms snaked around my neck. I lifted her off the floor and walked us to the wall next to where the Murphy bed was hidden. I gently pushed her into the wall, using her to release the latch that held the bed in place, then spun us around once to make way for the bed which fell gently to the floor. I began on the buttons that held her dress to her perfect, trembling body. I stared into her sapphire eyes and with one hand, unfastened each of the buttons at her hip, then began unfastening the ones at her shoulder. The other hand moved to her cheek then through her silky golden curls. She brought one finger to my thickly stubbled jaw and traced it slowly from my ear to my chin. I kissed her again as I slid her dress off her shoulders and to the floor. She stepped out of it and kicked it behind her with a sexy flick of her high heeled foot.

Once again, she took my fucking breath away. She stood before me, her white pearls shimmering in the light of the setting sun, her perfect tits crammed gloriously into a black lace bustier. Her panties matched the bustier, and of course she had a black lace garter belt, holding up my favorite, black Cuban heeled stockings with the seam all the way up the back, which were very hard to come by right now. I began to wonder if she'd ever _not_ take my breath away and immediately realized the idiocy of such a stupid fucking question.

_Of course she'd always have that effect on me, she's Rosie._

"So beautiful," I whispered against her lips, cupping her face in my hands before releasing her to turn her back to me. I let my fingers dance along her back before unfastening all the little hooks of her bustier. I pulled it away from her, freeing her perfect breasts, and dropped it to the floor. She brought her hands over her head and up the back of my neck, tangling her fingers in my hair. My hands moved down, over the high curve of her ass, and unsnapped the two garter straps in the back, before reaching around and unsnapping the two in the front. I buried my mouth in her neck, nibbling softly as I trailed my hands from her inner thighs slowly up and lightly over her clit through the silk of her panties. She shivered in response and hissed as I unfastened the hooks that held the garter belt around her waist. The garter belt fell away from her, and my eager hands slipped up the front of her torso to cup her full, perfectly round tits and roll her nipples between my fingers. She whimpered and ground her backside into me, back and forth, in impatient little arcs.

Moving my hands up to her shoulders, I turned her around so that she was facing me. For a minute, I got lost in the trust and want I saw in her gaze, and it went straight to my fucking gut. She slid her hands under my shirt and slipped it off my arms. She plucked the hem of my undershirt and I raised my arms for her as she pulled it up and over my head. Her finger skimmed the waist of my boxer shorts teasingly before ducking under and hooking it with her finger, easing them down with a gentle tug.

I coaxed her onto the bed, and she reclined back willingly, expectantly, as I climbed in beside her and propped myself up on my left elbow. I leaned over her and devoured her mouth some more, worshiping her with my tongue, exploring her exquisite body with my hand. My right hand moved down her side in random little patterns and then grazed her hip, which made her shiver adorably, before reaching down and pulling her stocking off her leg. On the way back up, my hand caught her other ankle, still encased in silk. I lazily dragged my fingertips up the inside of her calf and knee, teasing her as they memorized the curve of her inner thigh. My slender fingers traced the silky hem of the stocking before pulling it down and off her leg. All that remained were her black lace panties.

My hand went to her face, my fingertips caressing her cheek adoringly. Her little hands pulled my face closer to her, demanding my fucking _everything_, and I was all too willing to give it to her. My right hand wandered down her over her luscious tits and sculpted stomach to play with the lacy elastic of her panties. She lifted her hips off the bed just enough for me to slowly pull them down and off of her.

Finally, there were no more barriers, no more masks, no more pretenses, no more fucking questions between us.

I sat up to kneel before her. She spread her legs, resting a foot on each side of my hips. I quickly reached over to pluck the condom off the desk, tearing it open and rolling the thin rubber over my penis while I watched her tongue dart out and lick her lips in anticipation. I lowered myself to her and plunged my nose into her neck again, drowning myself in her roses in the same instant that I plunged myself into her. She gasped as her arms wrapped around me and I could feel her red fingernails digging into me. I buried myself in her, spent a moment relishing her seemingly endless depth. She felt _so fucking perfect_, molded to me, tailored for me, _destined_ for me.

I withdrew slowly, holding myself above her, my mouth insistent upon hers, before taking her again. She turned her head away to gasp "Edwaaaaard," and her hands fell to the bed where they clutched desperately at the pale blue cotton sheet. I ran my nose along her neck, over the creamy white pearls of the necklace she still wore, and set a pace with my hips that had my Rosie wiggling in tortured ecstasy beneath me in mere moments.

_So fucking beautiful._

I couldn't stop watching her, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her flushed face, dewy with sweat and smiling in rapture. My pace quickened, my own need fed by her enjoyment of what I was doing to her.

"Mmmmm, baby doll," I whispered huskily into her ear. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and both of us hissed at the sensation her shift inspired. I brought my forehead to hers, and my thrusts grew more impatient, more demanding. I could tell she was close.

_Not going too slow now am I, doll? _

I plunged into her faster, my pelvic bone hitting hers, she arched her back and I snaked my arm under her. I pulled her hips to me on my next thrust. I felt her clench around me as she cried out a low, sexy, "fuuuuck" while her nails raked painfully across my back. One of her hands moved up to my head and grabbed a fist full of my hair, pulling tightly and pushing me over the edge a second after her. I tried to bury myself as deeply in her as fucking possible while I pressed my trembling lips to her mouth, and poured my _everything_ into her.

I collapsed on top of her, spent and disgustingly sweaty. She sighed contentedly, a pleased, satisfied little smile on her face that I couldn't wait to inspire more often, and I counted myself the luckiest son of a bitch in Chicago.

I started to push off the bed to reluctantly pull myself off of her. Her legs were still wrapped around me and they squeezed me tighter. "No, stay for a moment... please?" she said and lifted her head to plant a kiss on my heart. I put my elbow next to her head and lowered myself back down. We kissed languidly for a few minutes and the scent of roses and cigarettes and sex was thick in the air. The light had started to fade, it was almost twilight now, and instead of the sunlight filtering through the blinds in soft orange slits, now the pale, rising moon bathed the room in dreamy blue. My Rosie looked gorgeous in the moonlight, the shimmering opalescence of her pearl necklace, the only thing she still wore, perfectly complimenting the luminosity of her flawless face. I kissed the tip of her nose, then reluctantly pulled off of her and stood up to excuse myself to the john. She let me go this time.

Tossing the condom in the trash, I cleaned myself up a little and came out, picking up my pack of Lucky's, my lighter and the ashtray from my desk. I got back in bed next to Rosie and lit up a smoke. She took it from my lips and puffed away a couple of times before handing it back to me. She rested her head on my shoulder, watching my jaw move as I inhaled.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"Sex does that to you," I acknowledged sarcastically and winked at her.

She slapped my shoulder again, "Edward, seriously," she scolded.

"Well what do you want?" I asked.

"What do you like to eat?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

"Chinese is my favorite," I admitted and watched with amusement when her face wrinkled in a worried frown.

"I don't have much experience with Chinese food...Can I share whatever you get?" she asked.

I pulled her face to mine and kissed her like the angel she was. I took a deep breath, breathing in my Rosie, and whispered against her lips, "Sure baby doll, what's mine is yours."

_**The end (for now... although an epilogue will be coming soon)  
**_

_**

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**_TheHeartofLifeisGood – this was written first and foremost for YOU. We love you and thank you for introducing us to Roseward. Happy birthday love! xoxoxox

KrisBCullen - our beta and researcher throughout. You questioned everything we included and made sure we were doing the 40's right. For that, we owe you so much love! :)

Mr. LoreliD and Mr. LSD – thanks for playing along and sharing us with our fic wives… and Private Dickward.

Thank you SO much to those who have read and reviewed – it makes our hearts sing every time we read your feedback and we were giddy with every email we received telling us we had a review. We hope you've enjoyed the ride with our Rose/Edward. We've grown quite attached to these two and might visit with them again in the future. If we do, hope we'll be seeing you! And please, if you've enjoyed the story, let us know. :)

What's next?  
LoreliD returns to the Volturi with Deceptive Little Flower (Jane) and Creating Alec.  
LightStarDusting considers expanding Chasing Paper (Jella).  
TheHeartofLifeIsGood plans on posting the first chapter of her Rosalie story called The Long Walk Home soon.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

Anxiously, his eyes followed the secondhand slowly ticking its way around the face of the clock. He had been watching it for hours, the metal wire clicking its way around the numbers, time and time again.

He did not sleep. He _could not_ sleep.

He could only wait.

His arm was wrapped around his wife and he resisted the urge to draw her to him tightly. As it were, he would have a difficult time extracting himself from her and the thought alone made him press his lips together in a tight line. He tried to match his breaths to her long sighing ones in an attempt to calm his rapidly thudding heart. Usually time flew by when he was with her. This time it was different and in the early morning hour, time stood still.

He had been keeping secrets from her and while it killed him to do so, he could only hope that the issue would resolve itself before her involvement became unavoidable. He had unplugged the phone in their room earlier that evening while she washed her face of the makeup she wore during the day. He reasoned he could plug it in once the morning light filtered through the windows and she would be none-the-wiser. He didn't want to have her worry any more than necessary.

_It's nearly time._

He pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead. The smell of cold cream remained on her face, the only lingering indication of her daytime mask. She showed her true self to him here, in their bed, and he could not stop himself from drawing in a lengthy breath through his nostrils while squeezing his eyes tightly. It pained him to know that while she was unmasked here, he was keeping secrets. His nose nuzzled her crown, her sweet caramel hair touched with strands of grey. With regret, he slipped from their bed, leaving her among the expensive bedclothes. Glancing back, he saw her shift and he found himself wishing that she would wake. She would ask him where he was going and he resolved to finally tell her. It would absolve him of the guilt he felt and she would comfort him. If she woke, it would finally open that window to the conversation he had been trying so desperately to bring up over the past few weeks.

She did not wake.

Slipping his feet into the soft slippers that rested near the foot of their bed, he crept out of the room. Near the entry of the room he nearly tripped over his black medical bag and a string of whispered curses escaped his lips before he recovered and ran his hand through his hair. He slipped down the hall, taking care to step over the creaky floorboard that was three paces outside of their door. The moonlight filtered through the large uncovered window in the front of their home and lit his path. The usually quick journey seemed to last forever until he finally reached the study he had claimed as his own.

The grandfather clock in the downstairs foyer sang out, unaware of the drama that surrounded the impending phone call. The clock chimed twice, signaling the hour. A moment later, the phone rang shrilly. In haste, he lifted the receiver to his ear.

He listened to the voice on the other end of the line and felt uneasy as they spoke their demands. Quietly he listened and when he answered, he worked hard to kept his voice steady. He assured them that he understood their demands, he would not keep them waiting and that he would _not _contact the police. He did not want any harm to come to him or his family. The call lasted less than two minutes.

He sat at the mahogany desk for a moment, trying to work through what he should do. Two thoughts tumbled around in the forefront of his mind and he wasn't sure where he should start. Both would be difficult, for different reasons.

He needed to talk to his wife. She needed to know what had happened.

He thought about Edward and he knew that he needed to contact his son. He was aware of Edward's work on the Hale case and while his heart broke for Rosalie's losses, it also swelled with pride for his son's involvement with the case. He'd heard through the grapevine that Edward might be courting Rosalie, which wouldn't surprise him in the slightest. While they hadn't been in contact for years, he knew that Edward would need a woman like Rosalie in his life. He had been the Hale's family doctor since Lillian and Cuthbert had married and could still remember Rosalie as a headstrong tot. Perhaps she could be of assistance in bringing their family back together. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but if anyone could do it, Rosalie Hale could.

Esme sat in the bed when he returned, the small lamp on the nightstand was lit. "Sweetheart? Is everything all right?"

_No, everything is all wrong._

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A/N – Dun dun dunnnnn! We can't get Roseward out of our minds (tenacious would be one word to describe them!) so we plan to continue with another novella. If everything goes as planned, we'll start posting "My Girl Friday" at the beginning of February. Please feel free to put us on author alert if you'd like to continue following Rosalie and Edward's story (and find out what's up with Carlisle!).

**Please review – we always appreciate your thoughts!**


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